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sequinsmile-x · 2 years

Note

Happy birthday!! I’m in love with your writing, could you write prompt 18 from list 1 please xx

Thank you!! <3

And of course, friend!! I hope you enjoy this.

This prompt is "don't worry, I'll take care of you."

To send me a prompt, find the info here!

-x-

Keeper

Words: 1.9k

Warning: sickfic! mentions of throwing up, but nothing graphic

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut!

Aaron knows that he is in love with her.

It felt ridiculous, obscene even, given that they’d only officially been dating for 10 weeks. It started with him offering to help her on her bad days, something he could understand better than the others. Their respective experiences with Foyet and Doyle as similar as they were different. Their monsters were real men, twisted into something insidious by memories and nightmares, both of them prone to waking in the middle of the night, the other always there to provide comfort, foreheads pressed together until breathing returned to normal.

Aaron had always been attracted to Emily, something she had admitted had not been a one-way street after their first night together. Her bare skin pressed up against his, a wide smile on her face as she just kept kissing him as if she was trying to convince herself it was real.

Aaron was trying to be a better boyfriend than he had been a husband in the last few years with Haley. So, on a rare weekend completely free from work, after a day spent entirely with his son, he leaves Jack in the care of Jessica so he could take Emily out on a date. A table booked at a French restaurant that she raved about, his thoughts almost entirely occupied by the way she’d teased him at work yesterday, whispers in his ear when it was just the two of them about the new underwear she’d bought for the occasion.

They had spent a relatively rare night apart, Emily encouraging him to spend some time with Jack by himself, something she knew he treasured and was keen for him to preserve. She had left him with a kiss and a wink as they went separate ways in the parking lot at Quantico, her own plans of having take-out and an early night something she had spoken about all day.

He hadn’t really heard from her all day, something that make anxiety spark in his gut. He’d had a quick text back when he asked if she was ok, something that helped dampen his concern. He knocks on the front door of her apartment, excitement at spending time alone with her simmering under his skin. A smile he could never seem to shake when he thought of her, of the fact she was his spreading over his face.

His smile slips off his face the moment he lays eyes on her, her drawn face peeking through the gap in the door as she opens it. She was paler than usual, something he didn’t think was possible, and she looked exhausted. Her hair was thrown back into a low ponytail, loose strands sticking to her skin with sweat. She was in an old t-shirt of his and a pair of sleep shorts, an indication that she hadn’t changed out of her pyjamas at all.

“Em, are you ok?”

“Aaron?” She croaks out, her throat raw. “What are you doing here?”

“Our date, we have reservations remember,” he explains, opening his mouth to ask her if she was ok again, noting that she had avoided his question.

“Fuck,” she says, sighing as she takes a step back from the door, opening it enough to let him in, “I’m so sorry honey, just give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready.”

Aaron frowns at her, his hands on his hips as he looks her up and down. “Sweetheart, you’re clearly sick. We can re-arrange dinner.”

“I’m fine,” she says, forcing a smile as she looks at him, “let me put some make-up on and I’ll be...” she drifts off, a look on her face that he had never seen before, and she covers her mouth, running off towards her bathroom at full speed.

“Emily?” He exclaims as he follows after her, wincing in sympathy as he makes it to the bathroom only seconds after she has, met with the sight of her crouched over the toilet, her knees against the tiles. There are empty Gatorade bottles strewn on the floor, and a half-empty glass of water on the kitchen counter. Sure signs that she’d likely been in here all day, alone and miserable in her illness. He thinks nothing of it, of his freshly dry cleaned suit, when he joins her, kneeling behind her as he rubs her back. “You’re ok, baby. You’re ok.”

She groans as she pulls back from the toilet, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she pulls the flush, shifting so she was leaning against the wall.

“I think we may have to rearrange tonight,” She says, smiling sadly at him, “you should probably go.”

His frown deepens, an incredulous look on his face as he shifts towards her, his hand on her forehead, something she bats away almost immediately.

“If you think I’m leaving you here alone you’ve lost your mind,” he says firmly, “you don’t feel hot.”

“It’s not the flu,” she says breathing out slowly, what he assumes is an attempt to settle her stomach, “it’s food poisoning,” her eyes meet his, and she scrunches her nose up, as if she was preparing to be reprimanded, “I got dinner from The Greek Wok last night.”

Aaron can’t help the sigh that escapes him, his hand falling to her bare thigh which he then squeezes. It was a place she frequented, a local Chinese take-out a block from her place, and he had told her more than once that she should stop eating there. The one time he’d been there he’d seen a mouse in the kitchen. Emily had all but insisted that he was seeing things, saying she’d eaten there from the week she’d moved in, and had never had any issues.

Until last night.

“Em.”

“Can we save the lecture until after I’ve stopped throwing up everything I’ve ever eaten," she pleads, cutting over him before he could say anything, he nods in response and she smiles thankfully, “you really don’t have to stay. We have not been together long enough for you to see me like this.”

“And what kind of boyfriend would I be if I left?” He says, getting onto his knees so he could lean over to the counter, grabbing a washcloth from the drawer he knew she kept them in and wetting it under the tap, turning back to her to run it over her pallid skin. “Garcia would never let me live it down if she found out I abandoned you on your bathroom floor.”

She chuckles, a weak sound in comparison to her usual laugh, but it still makes his heart lurch anyway, words he had to keep forced down trapped in his chest.

“Well we can’t have that,” she replies, groaning as she presses her hand to her stomach, “god I feel like shit.”

“I’m not surprised, love,” he says sympathetically, disposing of the washcloth by turning to put it into the sink, “have you managed to keep anything down?”

She shakes her head. “Not really,” she complains, leaning forward so her forehead was against his shoulder, “I hadn’t thrown up in well over two hours when you got here so I thought I was ok.”

“I do have to ask,” he says, cupping the back of her head as he encourages her to look up at him, “what was your plan if we made it to the restaurant?”

He doesn't ask why she didn’t tell him she was sick when she knew he was at home all day, that he would have been here with her in a second. He knows it’s not the time, a conversation they can have when her best friend isn’t the toilet.

“Just eat something plain.” She says, a sheepish look in her eyes he knows would be paired with a flush to her cheeks if she had any colour to her at that moment.

He hums at her. “Good thing we weren’t planning on eating really rich food in a French restaurant then, isn’t it.” He quips, an eyebrow raised at her.

She furrows her brows at him. “Don’t make fun of me, I’m sick.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, gathering her into his arms, his lips against her forehead as he held her, “do you think you can move to bed?” She shakes her head against him, desperation in the movement as she grips at his jacket a little tighter. “Ok, we’ll stay here then.” He kisses the top of her head again. “I’ll just call the restaurant and go grab you a couple of things, and then I’ll be right back.”

He kisses her cheek before he breaks away from her, ignoring the protest in his knees as he stands up, grabbing the Gatorade bottles from the ground as he goes. He calls the restaurant to cancel the reservation and walks around her kitchen, desperate to find something he could give to her to make her feel better. He finds a can of ginger ale in her fridge and grabs it. When he’s back in her bedroom he grabs a pillow from her bed, slipping it under his arm, and the comforter too, determined to make her as comfortable as possible.

He walks back into the ensuite to find her hunched over the toilet again, and he sighs.

“Oh, Em.” He says, putting the things he was carrying down so he could kneel behind her again, grimacing on her behalf as she spits into the toilet.

“God,” she exclaims, her voice shaky as she flushes again, pulling back to look at him, her eyes sheening with unshed tears, “I fucking hate this.”

“I know you do baby,” he says, gathering her into his arms, “don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He presses his lips to the top of her head, “do you want to brush your teeth?”

“No point,” she grumbles, settling into his side, “I’ll never stop throwing up, it’s a waste of toothpaste.” He chuckles into her hairline and she looks over at the things he’d brought in with him, finally registering her comforter on the floor. “Is that my bedding?”

“I thought just because you can’t move from in here doesn’t mean you can’t be comfortable.” He explains, reaching for the glass of water she’d clearly abandoned earlier and encouraging her to take a sip as he grabs the bedding, placing the pillow in his lap as he leans against the wall. “Come lay down for a bit.”

Emily smiles at him, laying so her head is in his lap, curling up against him. He lays the comforter over her, almost wrapping up in it entirely. They lapse into silence, their bodies pressed close together in the cool air of her bathroom.

“I’m sorry for ruining date night.” She whispers eventually, her hand reaching for one of his, linking their fingers together, “I was really looking forward to it.”

“You have nothing to apologise for, we’ll just rearrange for when you’re better.” He says like it’s easy, like their schedules allowed for every Saturday evening off work,

“You’re too good to me, Agent Hotchner,” she says, yawning, his spare hand playing with her hair, his blunt fingernails against her scalp, lulling her to sleep. “A girl could get used to this.”

Aaron can’t help but smile as he looks down at her, her eyes fluttering shut, her long lashes throwing patterns over her cheeks.

“You better get used to it,” he says, her body relaxing against his as she succumbs to sleep, “because I’m not going anywhere.”

-x-

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tessiete · 3 years

Text

(art by @rcrisdraws)

AT LAST! It is done.

After ten months, and 200 000+ words I have at last finished my Year on the Run fic chronicling Satine's rise to power, and her romance with Obi-Wan.

It's been a huge part of my life, and I will get to the comments that so many wonderful people have left for me (seriously, the love and depth of engagement people have expressed for this fic has BLOWN ME AWAY. I'm forever grateful for that incredible support!!!) but in the meantime, let me say THANK YOU to everyone who has read along, and encouraged me, and held my hand.

Special thanks especially, to @treescape who listened to EVERY SINGLE chapter breakdown, discussed character motivations and arcs, pointed out holes and found solutions, and was really a guiding light the whole way through.

Thanks also to @pomiar and @the-last-kenobi who listened to be kvetch for WEEKS. Pom, who helped and still helps me figure out how to make it function as a complete novel, who was never afraid to point out something that was out of character, or demand much needed explanations for things that weren't always clear. Her vision is just SO acute and insightful! And TLK whose undying enthusiasm pushed me to the finish line. She's always eager to hear more, full of encouragement, and her utter faith in me was exactly what I needed.

The biggest thanks of all to the Obitine discord, and the wonderful people there. I wrote this to convince @duchess-of-mandalore that we don't need canon, to try and give @the-obiwan-for-me something HALF as wonderful as her fic (SSTW) gave to us, to make @mg024 laugh, and cry, and astonish her as much as she manages to astonish me. And for everyone else there who has been with me. It's for you!!!

You can find the whole thing HERE

And now, because I love process, here are some behind the scenes tidbits...just in case you were curious.

There really is nothing known canonically about "The Year on the Run" except:

1. It was "an extended mission when I was younger. Master Qui-Gon and I spent a year on Mandalore, protecting the Duchess from insurgents who had threatened her world. They sent bounty hunters after us. We were always on the run, living hand to mouth, never sure what the next day would bring."

2. They were attacked by venomites on Draboon

3. Obi-Wan carried Satine when they first met, and he dropped her which resulted in her getting a scar.

That's literally the entirety of what we know.

So, I had to expand on it A LOT.

The whole fic is a re-imagining of The 12 Labours of Hercules. What I didn't know when I started is there is no modern consensus on the morals/meanings of each task, so I had to do a bunch of research to find the most consistent interpretations, and then fill in the rest myself.

The hydra is represented by the nine bounty hunters that chase them the whole way throughout.

By rank: Aden Kast (meaning: wrath) - died by own hand Pre Vizsla - defected Jaro Spar (meaning: death wish) - arrested Bann Dryden (meaning: refuse) - killed by Qui-Gon Prudi Saxon (meaning: shadow) - deserted Paak Saxon (meaning: salt) - killed by Aden Kast Mirala Chorn (meaning: thoughtful) - disappeared Kyric Eldar (meaning: kill/end/death) - banished by DW Trikan Kelborn (meaning: sorrow) - killed by Bralor

Extra bonus: Hercules is eventually killed by the poisonous blood of the hydra, and so, this task is one that kind of defeats him. Pre Vizsla is that poison in Only Hope. He sides with Satine here out of cunning, ambition, and self-preservation, but later is her ruin.

Satine's big thing is pacifism, and it was important to me in telling this story that pacifism not be confused with passivity. And so, I spent a lot of time researching how pacifism as an ideology can be made practical. Of course, I looked to Gandhi.

Using the three pillars of pacifism, I expanded on them within the text to demonstrate just *how* Satine makes this ideology work. Mandalorians are warriors, and she is no different. Only she battles hate, fear, and prejudice instead of people.

Beyond the political philosophies at play, I also spent a lot of time translating things into Mando'a. At the beginning of the story, Obi-Wan does not speak the language, so until he learns it, his POV chapters were FULL of fluent Mando'a.

This meant that I had to make up a ton of idioms, mottos, and myths to fill out the world of Mandalore. Things like these:

I also made up war songs, and beer hall anthems:

Of course, sung by Obi-Wan

And new gods for the old Mandalorian religion:

And about a MILLION Mandalorian names: Nur, Naani, Jori Ast'Atin, Haati be'Murtin, Bralor, Paak & Prudi, Iviinya, Kih'sol, Ta-Ciryc, Bu'ataaka, Rang, Kyric, Trikan, Gamnyn, Kut, Bora-Gaan, and on and on.

And a million cities: Dalabiik, Meshurok, Chorus, Amancitia, Pohja, Jiilma, Antioch the Needles, blah blah blah

And a million words: kalesera, etyc'baar, bo'aka, koryai, etc.

And of course, it wouldn't be a SW story without a ton of Obi-Wan whump.

(art by the incredible @kyber-erso)

Anyway. That's all for now. Thank you everyone for your interest, and love, and support!

- tess

#fic that i did #obitine #obi-wan kenobi #satine kryze #year on the run #jedi positivity #mandalorian positivity #worldbuilding #writing #fic #star wars #gffa

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booksnmore · 4 years

Photo

Chapter One

Series Summary || In the cutthroat world of mergers and acquisitions, Feyre Archeron has to try and keep her head when caught between duty and a man that might have stolen her heart. (Modern Day ACOTAR AU)

Chapter Summary || After career-altering news at work, Feyre visits her favorite bar and finds someone to distract her for the night.

Word Count || 5348

A/N || Mature themes that are not appropriate for readers under the age of 18. Includes graphic depictions of sex. Reader beware. 18+

Tagged Crew: @highqueenofelfhame

Feyre tossed her keys in the bowl to the left of the front door and kicked off her shoes, one too-tall heel after the other, grinning slightly at the satisfying ‘thunk’ they made as they collided with the wall. She bent over and rubbed at the red lines pressed into her feet from the uncomfortable footwear all day, and cursed, not for the first time, the strict dress code enforced at her job.

“Women should wear appropriate skirts and shoes,” she muttered as she padded down the hallway into the kitchen, making it clear what she thought of their ‘appropriate’ standards. The apartment was quiet, her cat napping on the couch not bothering to wake up and greet her.

“Hello to you too, Jiji,” she said, ruffling the black cat’s fur as she walked past and ignoring his indignant ‘mrr?” of protest. She pulled the pins out of her hair as she walked past the coffee pot and pulled out a bag of tea, groaning as her long, strawberry-blonde hair tumbled free of its tight constraints.

Flicking on the T.V. while her kettle came to a boil, she absently thumbed through the channels, ignoring the doom and gloom the news was preaching, and settled on an old re-run of Golden Girls. Ah, she could always rely on Dorothy to tell it how it was. The kettle kicked off, and she poured the water over her teabag, inhaling the bite of the black tea as it steeped.

Her phone pinged from the couch where she’d set it, so with tea in one hand and remote in the other, she walked over to see what it was. If Lucien thought he could text her after hours and ask her to do more work off the clock, she was tempted to tell him where he could shove his brief. It was hard to believe that her drunken 3am application to the agrochemical company as a paralegal had panned out at all. After all, she’d been a recent grad with only her stellar 4.0 GPA and a few semesters of volunteer work at a local tax office for low income residents to commend her to the position. The HR lady had claimed that she was just the fresh perspective the company needed, and being naive enough to trust this, Feyre’d jumped at the chance to move to California. After all, she knew she was just one face among thousands, looking for a job. The salary they paid was enough for her to just manage to afford an apartment all to herself, if she ignored that some walk-in closets were bigger than the whole place.

She swiped open the message on her phone and, sure enough, it was a message from Lucien, the corporate lawyer she worked under. It wasn’t that he was a bad guy, not entirely. He was easy-going and gave Feyre opportunities to learn first-hand, and never pushed his workload onto her like she knew some of the other lawyers for the company did with their paralegals. He was interesting to look at; not necessarily conventionally attractive, not with the glass eye and scar down his cheek, or the perpetual frown he seemed to wear around their boss Tamlin, but something about him drew the eye in a way a model’s perfect proportions couldn’t. They had an easy-going enough relationship, and though they were friendly with each other he was always careful to keep things professional, and she never felt weird or creeped out around him. Not the way she felt around Tamlin.

The son of the CEO, and a chairman in his own right, Tamlin seemed to have a special affection for Feyre, and tended to offer her and Lucien workloads that were more interesting, or easier, and laved attention on her at work to the annoyance of her coworkers. She didn’t return the feelings, but how would she ever say that to her boss? So she smiled, and gritted her teeth, and bore the condescending little comments about how cute she was that day, how that skirt made her look luscious, how that blouse really did need something under it, as he could see her bra quite clearly, though it didn’t bother him.

No, those inappropriate comments were just made for the betterment of the company. If she wore that skirt that clung to her hips when they met with the judge, he was sure the court would rule in their favor. If she just smiled more, the judge would be a little more lenient. She tried to ignore the way she could feel his eyes crawling over her, or the way his brow would pucker when she wore a top buttoned all the way up. The only good thing about their relationship was that they rarely met in person. Lucien was aware of it, and did his best to help, in his own way. He and Tamlin apparently went way back to Yale together, but despite that he tried to field any in-person meetings with Tamlin that he could, and seemed to always have something for Feyre to be doing out of the office when Tamlin would drop by. She was silently grateful, not wanting to say anything and risk disturbing the fragile peace they’d found.

She read the brief message, eyes narrowing. Come into the office now. We have a problem. Though he was only a few years older than her, he texted like an old man, she thought with a small grin, then groaned loudly at the thought of shoving her feet back into her shoes after just freeing them. Since Tamlin required them to turn read receipts on for the company chat, he knew she’d seen his message and would expect her soon. Glancing ruefully at her tea, she stood up and slipped on her favorite pair of flats. She would just ignore the snide comments about how her shoes just weren’t professional enough. If he wanted her in overtime, she’d wear what she damn well pleased.

“Guess I’ll see you later, Jiji,” she said, kissing the cat’s head despite his grumpy yawn. “Hold down the fort for me, won’t you?” The traffic was terrible - she’d only just gotten home in a cab after a 45 minute commute spent almost entirely sitting still. Paying for an extra cab wasn’t in the budget, and she suspected that Tamlin would want her in sooner than that anyway, so she pulled on a jacket and grabbed her purse. It was only ten blocks or so; she’d walk.

The streets were overrun with people, but at least with them she could slip past, using her smaller frame to get through where others couldn’t. She hated the way people would look down on her, using her height as a way to intimidate her, but decided in that instance that it was for the best. Autumn was in full swing, and the brisk nip of the breeze was turning to a more biting cold. Tugging her jacket more tightly against her, she almost regretted her decision to walk. However, when the looming office building stood just ahead and she looked down at her watch, she knew she’d made the right choice. Closer to 15 minutes than 45, and she did feel less sleepy after the walk.

Pushing the doors open, she waved at Jackson sitting behind the security desk, and the gray-headed man gave her a sympathetic look back. “He’s in a fine mood tonight, Ms. Archeron,” he warned, knocking his head towards the upstairs offices. “Best to just nod and get back to your beau at home.”

No matter what Feyre told Jackson, he was convinced she must have a boyfriend, and had dreamed up the fantasy that she was engaged and totally in love, and had a dog and two cats. All she had to say was that the old man had too much time on his hands, and a far too active imagination.

“Thanks for the heads up, Jackson,” she said, hitting the button for the elevator doors and taking that moment to compose herself. She knew her cheeks were flushed from the walk and the wind, so she instead used the reflection of the elevator doors to try and fix her windblown hair into something resembling a bun. She only had her emergency hair tie and none of the bobby pins required to keep the stray curls around her face from springing loose, so she did what she could before the doors dinged, then pressed the button that would deliver her to whatever Tamlin had needed her for so desperately that night.

When she stepped off the elevators, she knew something was very wrong. It wasn’t just Tamlin and Lucien that were gathered around the large table in their conference room. Standing beside them was Aamon Verne, Tamlin’s father and CEO of Viridis Agrochemicals, and Nikoli Hybern, the Chief Strategy Officer. The three men together were never a good omen. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she walked up and rapped sharply on the glass door. There, in the chairs towards the back, next to Lucien, sat Nuala and Cerridwen, her two fellow paralegals, who offered her a look that was both encouraging and warning.

“Yes, come in girl,” said the elder Verne with a sweep of his hand. Despite his age, he still looked every bit the powerful man he was in his youth. Aamon Verne was a name that was both respected and feared in the industry, though Feyre had more loathing than respect for the man. He saw those around him only as tools for his use, and she’d heard him and Tamlin speaking about Nuala and Cerridwen while at lunch once in a way that made her skin crawl.

Still, he was her boss and she dipped her head briefly at both him and Nikoli, resolutally ignoring Tamlin as much as possible. All three of the men had deep-set frowns, and only paused in their argument long enough for Tamlin to wave her over and push a stack of papers into her hand that seemed identical to what Nuala and Ceridwen were holding. He waved her away carelessly and she took a seat next to her co-workers, thumbing through the papers even as her ears revealed what was happening.

“Who does this Rhysand think he is?” thundered Aamon, though no one was dumb enough to answer. “Buying out our shareholders, and our company out from under us? I knew this would happen if we went public. It was bound to happen eventually.” Nikoli didn’t look perturbed by his boss’ behavior. Only Tamlin of the three had turned a shade paler, though in his defence his face showed nothing of his emotion.

“We could still reach out to the shareholders,” began Tamlin, but his father quickly cut him off.

“And what? Beg them for our jobs? They aren’t fools. They knew we would throw everything we have at them the moment we found out.” Sneering at his son, Aamon turned to Lucien who stoically met his gaze. “Take your people and figure something out. Find us a way out of this, and I’ll give you double your wages as a Christmas bonus.” The unspoken threat was clear: if you don’t, none of us will have a job.

Feyre’s head was spinning. A hostile takeover? Of their company? Feyre quickly went over the figures in their head. Since they were a publicly held company, they had thousands of shareholders, but not nearly enough that a tender offer wouldn’t work. She thumbed through the brief she’d been handed and, sure enough, Caeles Enterprises had offered to buy out their shareholders with a tender bid high above the price of the stock itself. It seemed the enough shareholders had sold, because at the moment, Caeles held the majority of Viridis’ shares of the stock, making them a majority shareholder. Feyre finally understood why the three heads of the company were so riled up. It really could be the end of their time at the company.

Leaning over to Nuala, Feyre asked, “What do we know about Caeles?” She pulled a pen out of her small leather portfolio and began to jot notes down as Ceridwen answered. “They’re relatively new, founded about ten years ago by Rhysand Neri and his cousin Morrigan. Apparently they mostly focus on renewable food sources, though it seems more broadly the company is focused on genetically modified agriculture. They have their hands in, uh, just a sec.” Ceridwen thumbed through the pile of paper, though Feyre found it before she did.

“Looks like their most recent focus is on soy crops in the Central Valley region. That explains why they're trying to take us over, at least.” Feyre’s gaze shuttered at that, knowing just how brutal Viridis’ policies towards competitors was. She and Lucien had just finished filing a lawsuit against the Growers of the Valley, requiring them to turn over 20% of their profits, as it had been ‘anonymously’ discovered that a large portion of their crops seeds were from Viridis’ own stores. She knew those farmers in the Growers of the Valley association couldn’t afford the 20% tariff, but per her company’s procedures it was a required case to take.

She ignored the growls and curses from the three heads of the company and continued to thumb through the papers, before turning to Lucien. “Whitemail? Do we have enough capital to cover the shares it would take to tip the balance back in our favor?” She watched the gears in his mind turning, but scribbled a few other options on her notepad as well.

“Let’s talk whitemail,” he finally said, standing up and motioning to the three of them to follow him out of the main office. “We’ll just be in the other room so you three can talk freely,” he said with a careless wave, already ushering them out of the room before Aamon could protest.

“Thank the gods we’re free of that,” said Nuala with a huffy laugh, giving Ceridwen a look. “If I had to stay in that testosterone-filled room for another moment, I think I’d have suffocated.” Feyre gave her friend a look of agreement, and even Lucien couldn’t hide his grin.

“What Feyre suggested might work,” he said, sitting down at the table and spreading the company’s bylaws out on the table. “Each of you grab a section, and let’s see what anti-takeover measures we can take. The likelihood that the new guy’ll fire all of us is pretty high, so work as though it were your ass on the line because, let’s face it, it probably is.”

So they hunted, heads down and fingers flying across the keyboard, for hours, until Feyre’s neck was sore and Nuala was yawning for the third time in as many minutes. Glancing down at her watch, she gave a resolute yawn of her own and sat down her pen, tip practically chewed up from that night’s frantic search.

“Lucien, respectfully, we’re all exhausted. Nuala can barely keep her eyes open, and I think I’ve seen Ceridwen misspell the word ‘thorough’ at least four times. With spellcheck on,” she added, cutting off what would have been Ceridwen’s excuse. “I’m going to finish up for the night. It’s 12am, and I doubt the partners are going to let us sleep in tomorrow morning.” Though she might let Tamlin walk all over her, she knew her limits. She could feel a headache just starting in her temple, and her stomach rumbled in complaint at its negligence.

Lucien threw up his hands, the picture of exasperation, but Feyre could see through it to the real exhaustion below the surface on him too. “Fine, you lazy lot. Go home and curl up with your teddy bears for all I care. I’m going to stay and see if I can find a way to keep Aamon from killing and eating me tomorrow morning. Night, ladies.” With little more than a glance up as their chairs scraped against the ground, Lucien continued flipping through pages, jotting notes in his messy handwriting, and biting his lip. If it were any other situation, she might have found him cute, but he was her superior and that was just too complicated for her. Shaking the errant thought from her head, she grabbed her jacket, tucked her portfolio under her arm, and headed out into the now decidedly frigid October air.

The cold instantly snapped her awake as she stepped out onto the street, hands jammed in her coat pockets. Glancing back the way she came, she made a snap decision to instead head east, ducking into a bar just down the road from work she wasn’t at all unfamiliar with. Her first few months working with Tamlin’s condescending and sleazy comments had seen her, Ceridwen, and Nuala at the bar more often than she might’ve liked, but in moments like this as she slipped inside and was greeted with a smile by Ressina from behind the bar, she knew there were worse places she could end up.

“You’re not normally here on the weekdays babe,” said Ressina in the way of a greeting, wincing in sympathy at Feyre’s sour expression. Without prompting, she made up Feyre’s drink of choice - a vodka cranberry - and passed it over before leaning on the bar, expression expectant.

Feyre took a long drink before giving a huffy laugh at Ressina. “You are probably one of the only bartenders in the city that actually wants to hear what her patrons have to moan about, you know that?” The bar was mostly empty, save for a couple that looked like they were only moments away from leaving and finding a room somewhere. Feyre was surprised to find that the idea actually held some appeal to her, as well. Brushing that aside, she glanced down the bar at a lone figure staring into his drink, and decided it was safe enough to tell her friend.

“You know where I work, right? Well, let’s just say none of us might work there any longer. There’s new blood coming in and apparently trying to clean house. I don’t know how much longer I have a job.” She gave a mirthless laugh and finished the rest of her drink in one go, motioning for a second one as Ressina made comforting noises.

“That’s rough kiddo,” said the barkeep as she stirred up another drink for Feyre without prompting, tisking under her breath. “I swear, the way they use you there with no gratitude, this might just be the thing to kick your ass in gear and get you to actually find a place that values you.”

Feyre just shook her head and pulled out her portfolio, now nursing her new drink as she scribbled new strategies to prevent the takeover. Ressina took this for the break in conversation it was and began to clean up behind the bar, preparing for closing while humming to the music under her breath. The woman really was beautiful, and Feyre found herself distracted watching the way her inky hair swayed with her as she went about cleaning up and closing out tabs. Feyre’s fingers itched to draw her, already imagining the lines curving around her figure, the strokes it would take to convey the feather-fine hair. After a few minutes, however, she forced herself to get back to work. That was, ostensibly, why she was at the bar after all. She began to jot down counter strategies, leaving little notes to herself later on to explain what she was talking about, and found herself so absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice the man at the end of the bar studying her until Ressina cleared her through and tossed her head in his direction.

“Uh,” she began, unsure how to spark a conversation with a man that clearly felt no shame at drinking her up like he was parched. “Hi?” Her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol and cold, and she knew she’d had just enough to drink to loosen up by the heat radiating off of her ears.

The man took a long sip of his drink before standing up and walking over, never taking his gaze off of Feyre. She felt goosebumps rise on her arms, but tamped down on the feeling and forced herself to keep a neutral enough expression. He was better looking in the light, his raven hair almost purple in the neon of the bar and mouth curved in what she could only imagine to be a smile promising filthy things.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, sitting down so close that their thighs touched. She felt warmth spread down her neck, though she forced herself to meet his gaze steadily, ignoring the quickening of her breath. He, however, didn’t ignore it and watched the way her breasts rose and fell under her blouse, drinking in the sight before looking back up with a smirk.

“Do I even know you?” Feyre asked, brow cocked. “I bet you use that line on all the girls.” She turned away, a deliberate move in that dance as old as time. Parry and riposte, ebb and flow. The heat in her veins made her bolder than normal, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I don’t even know your name, stranger.”

A funny look crossed his face so quickly that Feyre decided she imagined it, before he answered easily, “Daemon. And yours, my beauty?”

Feyre laughed, rolling her eyes at him, though she felt herself more at ease with what was clearly a teasing compliment. “Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think Daemon?” She tucked a curl behind her ear that had fallen out of her haphazard bun, noticing the way his eyes followed her every movement with the laziness of a predator that knows it has its prey cornered.

“What are you doing here, anyway? Beautiful woman like you, alone on a cold night like this? You should be curled up in furs next to some lucky guy somewhere.” His tone was light, but the hungry light in his eyes couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than lust.

“Work,” she replied, expression tightening slightly at the reminder. “Don’t suppose you know anything about that, do you?” She nodded down at his midnight suit, well-fitted and beyond anything she could ever afford, and cocked a brow. The challenge was clear in her gaze. She reached out and took his hand, ignoring the spark at their connection that caused Daemon to raise an eyebrow, and turned it palm-up. “Not a callus to be seen, just as I suspected,” she said, giving a theatrical sigh. “Bet your silver spoon is tucked away in that fancy suit too, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer, instead taking her hand and placing it on his chest where she could feel his heart pounding beneath the silky fabric. His other hand slid into her hair, massaging the back of her head and drawing an unintended moan from her. The tension from that day seemed to loosen and slide away. She’d always loved getting her head massaged, and it was almost as though he’d known this when he began. Her hands bunched the fabric of his lapel, eyes glazed until he drew his hand down to her cheek and began to draw close.

She realized where this was going, chastised herself for being too easy, and then met his lips with her own. It was utter possession. His kiss was firm and commanding, taking and giving in equal measure. She felt his chest rumble when she slipped her tongue past his lips, tanging with his own, and would have kept going if not for a pointed cough from behind the bar.

Pulling away, Feyre felt her face turn scarlet and had to force herself to ignore Daemon’s self-satisfied smirk as he straightened his clothing.

“You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here,” said Ressina with a knowing look, glancing between the rapid rise and fall of Feyre’s chest and the lipstick staining the corner of Daemon’s mouth. “Go on, lovebirds. Don’t make an old woman long for something she can’t have.” She turned her back to them to clean the glasses sitting out, but not before Feyre saw her grin.

Turning back to Daemon, she was at a loss for words. She wasn’t a one-night-stand kinda gal. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but she just...tended to not have time for relationships, and being the pragmatic girl she was, took care of any needs with brisk efficiency and the help of a not-inexpensive vibrator she’d gifted herself as a housewarming present when she moved to Cali. This guy, though… He almost seemed worth the trouble of bringing him home. She looked between him and the door, though her question was apparently written plainly enough on her face for him to make the one to suggest it.

He leaned in, nuzzling her neck and pressing kisses behind her ear. “I’d ask my place or yours, but I’m all the way across the city. You live closer?” His words were a torment of warm breath against one of her most sensitive places, drawing goosebumps up along her neck. Her head swam as though she was drunk, but she hadn’t had enough to go beyond a buzz and knew it must all be him.

“Yeah,” she breathed, tilting her head to the side to give him better access.

“Then let’s go, Feyre darling. Don’t make me wait.”

He didn’t have to ask twice, not with the heat in her stomach dropping lower, lower, until she felt her thighs squeeze together unconsciously. She quickly paid for her drink and ignored the salacious looks her friend was giving her, before grabbing her portfolio and keys, nearly stumbling after Daemon as he stood and took her hand. If the bulge in his pants was any indication, it seemed like he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

The trip home was a blur of scorching hot kisses and freezing wind, the combination almost driving her wild. They stumbled up the steps to her apartment and, with clumsy hands, she unlocked the door. Daemon pressed her back against the door, slamming it closed behind them, and began to ravish kisses up her throat, along her cheek, until he possessed her mouth entirely. Their kisses weren’t sweet, but a clashing of natural phenomena: a tidal wave against a sheer cliff, the inexorable pull of gravity on a falling stone. Their breath mixed as she pulled at his clothing, forgetting in the moment that the silk falling to the ground around them likely cost more than she made in a month.

“More,” she demanded, biting his lip petulantly when he pulled away in order to unbutton her blouse. He flashed a promising grin her way, in that moment being the picture of boyish pleasure and nothing like the foreboding man she’d first seen at the bar. The moment the chilled air hit her breasts, she arched her back and he took the opportunity to fill his hands with her, mercilessly brushing his thumb over her nipples until they rose in stiff peaks.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, against her skin, lowering his head to taste the rosy buds that now stood erect between them. “Divine.” He laved his tongue over her breasts, then down the valley between them until she couldn’t keep herself from pulling him back up to her mouth. Her hands snaking down his chest, undoing the buttons as she went until she could press her hands against his bare skin, teasing her fingers down his side until she reached his belt.

“Gods,” she groaned, clumsily undoing the buckle and shoving her hands into his trousers where she took possession of his cock, hard as steel and nearly as big around as her fingers could reach. She felt a shudder roll through him as she slowly teased him, swiping the bead of liquid from his tip and using it to help her hand glide up and down his length. “You’re so big, I-”

“Bedroom,” he bit out, cutting her off. He seemed to strain against her hand, nipping down her throat and along the tops of her breasts. “Unless you want to have sex against this door.”

The thought appealed to Feyre, but she managed to surface from her heady lust long enough to lead them both to her bedroom. She didn’t bother turning on the light, instead toppling into bed with him. “Condom?” she asked breathlessly, the thought only now crossing her mind. She was on birth control, but something about a one-night-stand seemed to require protection from a different sort of danger.

“My wallet,” he groaned, the sound turning into a growl as she slid her hand around his hips to dip into his back pocket, giving his ass a grope before returning with the foil-covered square. He squeezed his eyes shut as she rolled the condom down the length of him, then his control seemed to snap.

Rolling her beneath him, he poured kisses down her body until he reached the edge of her skirt, which he roughly pushed down until she was bare to him in only her pink flower underwear and tan bra. She hadn’t planned on getting laid when she got dressed that morning, but couldn’t muster enough concentration to worry about what he thought as he yanked the two pieces of fabric hiding her from him. His mouth slide lower, lower, pressing kisses to the delicate skin of her hips and inside of her thighs, before he sat up and pressed a thumb over her nub, rubbing once, twice, as she groaned beneath him.

“Yes, yes,” she breathed, hips bucking as he continued, adding first one, then two fingers inside her as she struggled against the wave rising higher and higher inside of her.

“So tight,” he growled, withdrawing his fingers and, in an act that had her melting, licked off each of his fingers, before lowering his face and feasting. A rumble of pleasure vibrated against her, causing her to alternate pushing against his head and pulling him closer, thighs squeezing against his shoulders.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, seeming to know what she needed but couldn’t say aloud. “Ready…?” He took her cry of pleasure as a yes, then said lowly, “Then come for me, Feyre darling.”

He drew her nub between his lips and sucked, laving his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves as she convulsed beneath him, finding herself soaring up and up until her pleasure broke on a knife’s edge, sending her shattering down back to earth.

Panting, Daemon gave her no time to recover, propping her hips up and lining himself up before driving in with a thrust. The pressure was intense, and this time her cry was tinged with discomfort, though he remained still until she began to slowly rock against him, moaning his name under her breath.

He took this as the permission that it was and began to move, slowly at first, then more quickly, angling himself so that he hit that one spot inside of her that caused her legs to clench so tightly around him that she thought he would complain.

She kept up the quiet litany under her breath of “yes, yes, yes,” as he drove into her, hips pistoning until she felt his control shatter and his pace grew frantic. The heat inside of her roared up again, rising like a furnace, until she felt him thrust deep inside of her and groan, his pleasure sparking her own until they were both tumbling down, down, into each other and the orgasm they shared. She felt her eyes closing when the bed dipped under him as he stood. The sink ran in the bathroom, then he returned, sliding under the covers with her and petting her hair with a lazy, unhurried pace. Her eyelid began to grow heavy, until finally she gave into sleep.

#books #bookish #reading #booklr #studyblr #english lit #ivory tower #IT #acotar #acotar au #acotar fanfic #feyre x rhysand #highqueenofelfhame

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lumosinlove · 4 years

Text

Sweater Weather

part ix

Remus woke up to the sound of his phone ringing. It sounded much louder than it probably was from how startled he was. His head jerked up from the pillow, and he opened one eye against the light. He reached blindly and answered.

“Hello?” his voice cracked a little. He cleared it. “Sorry, hi?”

“Remus!” his little brother’s voice shouted in his ear. “Mom says we’re coming for Thanksgiving!”

“What—” Remus blinked hard, falling back on his side with the phone to his ear, “I—Hi, Jules, that’s great,” he looked at the clock and laughed a little, rubbing his eyes. It read 6:45 am. “You’re up early.”

“Yeah. Mom said—”

He was cut off, though, and Remus could hear his mom in the background. “Julian Lupin, I told you not to wake your brother up!”

“Tell her it’s okay,” Remus sighed. “That’s really awesome. I can’t wait.”

“Can’t wait for what?” said a sleepy-slow voice in his ear.

Remus’ eyes widened as a warm hand slid around his waist, and a bare chest pressed against his equally naked back. Remus realized that he was stark naked with Sirius Black in his bed and talking to his little brother on the phone.

Sirius began to say something else, in French this time, when Remus spun quickly in Sirius’ arms, feet twisting in the sheets, and pressed a hand over his mouth. Sirius, obviously not yet totally awake, just made a sleepy sound and kissed his palm, but said nothing further.

Julian, thank god, was more focused on yelling something to their mom.

“Sorry,” Julian said, sighing into the speaker. “Mum’s really mad I woke you.”

“Tell her it’s fine, really,” Remus said, heart going fuzzy as Sirius blinked up at him from his pillow and halo of dark hair. “But, um, Jules, do you mind if I call you back a little later?”

“Yeah!” Jules said brightly. “Can we FaceTime? I wanna show you, I learned this new thing in practice.”

“Sure, of course,” Remus said.

Sirius perked up a little and grabbed Remus’ wrist to move his hand away. Jules? he mouthed, and Remus nodded, pressing a single finger to his lips. Sirius kissed that, too.

“Okay. Bye, Re! Oh, can we go to another Lions game do you think soon? Next visit, maybe?”

Sirius gave him a thumbs up and Remus laughed.

“I think we can definitely swing something, yeah.”

That seemed to be the trick to getting him happily off the phone, and Remus made sure he had hung up before throwing it towards the end of the bed with a laugh.

“Jeez, sorry. Bit of a wake up call, and on your day off, too.”

“s’okay,” Sirius’ stretched, full body, back arching, sheet slipping dangerously low on his hips. Remus had none of the dream-like disillusions as the first time he’d woken up beside Sirius. Instead, he pressed his hand to Sirius’ warm chest and leaned over him for a kiss.

“Ca va?” Remus asked with a kiss to the corner of Sirius’ mouth.

Sirius cupped the back of Remus’ head and kissed him harder, tongue slipping into his mouth.

“So good,” he said, and Remus’ chest warmed. “The family’s coming for Thanksgiving, eh?”

“Looks like it,” Remus laughed, then kissed Sirius’ cheek. It still felt like a novel gesture, so overly casual. “I’ll miss you.”

Sirius sighed and let his head fall back on the pillows. “If I don’t return look for my body in my mother’s garden.”

Remus made a sympathetic noise, but he wasn’t sure how much more he could do. He only knew what everyone knew of Sirius’ home life—or thought they knew. He passed his hands through Sirius’ hair, pushing it off his forehead.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you want to come over and eat my mom’s frankly perfect turkey dinner, you can. My dad will try to speak french with you and it will be horrible.”

Sirius laughed, a full, shaking one. “Want me to meet your parents? You like me that much?”

“Well, it’s like you said,” Remus leaned into him. “It’s been a long time coming on this end.”

“Mm,” Sirius hummed. He let Remus kiss his neck for a moment, then tapped his side. “What is frankly?”

Remus laughed and Sirius pinched him lightly. “Um. Huh,” Sirius played with a curl of Remus’ hair while he thought. “It’s like, obviously. Or, no, like…like hands down. Or fucking. Fucking perfect turkey dinner.”

“Ah, got it,” Sirius’ smile slowly turned down at the corners and he held Remus’ face gently in his hands. “My mother is not an—easy woman. My father’s not…he cares about hockey. That’s about it. I wish it was just something I could do.”

“I’m sorry. Mon chou.”

Sirius wrinkled his nose but laughed. “Cute.”

“It’s only for two days, anyway,” Remus said, pushing Sirius’ hair away from his face. “You’ll be back before you know it.” He pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Let me make you some breakfast, okay? Anything you want in particular?”

Sirius smiled sleepily at him, hands sliding down to the dip of Remus’ lower back. He thumbs moved gently across his skin. “You’re always so good to everyone. Which… Re, last night was…”

Remus felt his chest warm as Sirius shook his head, laughing softly as he pressed his lips to Remus’ temple.

“You’re kind,” Sirius said in a soft voice. “I feel good when I’m with you. You treat me like I’m…just myself.”

Remus placed his palm on Sirius’ chest and let him talk.

“I never thought I’d ever get to be with—anyone I actually wanted to be with.”

Remus watched his own fingers trace a pattern over Sirius’ collarbone. “So, all those girls…” He had a sudden flash of Sirius with his hand on some girl’s waist, chin tilted into their kiss.

Sirius laughed. “Those girls. They’re—fine.” Remus snorted and Sirius squeezed him closer. “I just mean…I know what they’re after, you know? A story to tell their friends, a good time. So, I kiss them, keep up appearances, and let them down gently.”

Remus sat up and stared at him. “You mean you never…”

Sirius scrunched his nose. “I did, in the beginning but…it’s exhausting, being someone you’re not. Especially in a setting like that, you know? Where there’s nowhere to hide.”

Remus nodded slowly, leaning into the knuckles that Sirius traced against his cheek. “I hated when you picked up girls.”

Sirius grinned. “Jealous?”

Remus raised an eyebrow, “Who’s calling who jealous?”

Sirius laughed and leaned forward for a quick kiss before falling back against Remus’ pillows with a groan and long stretch. Remus was still figuring out how to deal with a warm, stretched out Sirius Black in his bed.

“Mon dieu, I’m sore,” Sirius lifted one long, bare thigh up, throwing it across the backs of Remus’ legs. “Stretch me out, like at the rink.”

Sirius was already laughing halfway through the words, and then Remus was too, but he grabbed Sirius’ thigh anyway, pushing his knee back towards his chest.

“Aren’t I off duty?”

Sirius just made a noncommittal response and closed his eyes. Remus relaxed his leg and dug his fingers into the part of Sirius’ hip flexor that he knew tightened up a lot.

“I was joking, Re,” Sirius’ smile was soft, but he let out a breath as Remus’ fingers worked.

“We have a big roadie coming up after the break, and you’re nice and relaxed right now. The perfect time for some extra attention.”

Sirius laughed, staring up at the ceiling and letting Remus smooth his hands over the sensitive strip of skin that Remus had never touched bare before. It was soft and slightly paler than the rest of Sirius’ body, like it never saw sun. Remus liked that idea, that he was touching something that nobody, not even the sun, got to touch.

“Besides,” Remus said, in a quieter voice. “I like touching you.” He glanced up when he felt Sirius’ eyes on him. “It’s pretty surreal, after…you know. All this time.”

Sirius turned his head, but didn’t raise it off the pillows. His dark hair curled, like a halo around his head on the white pillowcase. Sirius reached forward and tangled their fingers together in the air before pulling forward with his hand until Remus had to lay against his chest. Sirius pressed the back of Remus’ palm against his mouth.

“It’s only a few days,” he said, as if he was trying to convince himself.

Remus nodded. “Only a few days.”

Remus had a spray bottle in one hand and a towel in the other, deep-cleaning his apartment when his phone began ringing, interrupting his music.

He answered it with his headphones without looking, assuming it was his mother telling him they had landed.

“Hey mom, okay flight?”

“Would your mother tell you she likes the way you look when you come?”

Remus coughed out a surprised laugh, and he could almost picture Sirius’ smile on the other end of the line.

“No,” Remus said. “No, she certainly wouldn’t. Are you at the airport, too?”

“Yep,” Sirius sighed. “Kill me.”

“Mm,” Remus said, spraying down his kitchen counter. “Life in the airport lounge, waiting for your father’s private jet must be hard.”

Sirius laughed dryly.

“I’m kidding,” Remus said softer. “I wish you were here.”

“I’ve had five bags of pretzels. That’s how stressed I am.”

“Aw, ba—um,” Remus set the spray bottle down hard. “I—sorry. Aw.”

“Did you just almost call me babe?”

“No,” Remus said, pressing his palm over his eyes. Then, after a pause, “No, I almost called you baby.”

Sirius was silent on the other end of the line. Remus listened to the sound of flights being announced in the background and Sirius’ breathing for a moment.

“That’s…” Sirius said finally, clearing his throat a little. “That’s good.”

“Good?” Remus asked carefully.

Sirius laughed, “I’m not exactly used to pet-names, Remus. It’s—it’s not a bad change.”

Remus’ heart pulled a little. “Oh. Well, okay, then.”

“Hey,” Sirius’ voice was soft through the speakers. “You going to keep me company at night while I’m away?”

“Not only will I do that,” Remus said, turning to lean against the counter. “But I will save you the best leftovers you will ever eat.”

“Pre-game meal worthy?”

“You know it, baby.”

Sirius’ laugh was loud and bright in his ear and Remus grinned at having encouraged such a sound.

“I can’t wait. I’ll text you when I land, eh?”

“Don’t forget,” Remus said. “Text me whenever you want.”

“It’ll let you know that I’m still alive. Remember, my body. My mother’s garden.”

Remus tightened his grip on the phone. “You’ll be back on the ice soon.”

Sirius let out a long sigh into the speaker. “I will. I’ll be back with the team. I’ll be back with you.”

Remus smiled and knew it showed in his voice. “Have a safe flight, okay?”

“Okay,” Sirius said wistfully. “Bye, Loops.”

Remus had his own ideas about Sirius’ family, but they did nothing to prepare him for the tight, pure unhappiness littering Sirius’ voice when he called that night. Remus’ parents and Julian had left about a half hour ago, tired from their flight in, and Remus had been sitting on the couch, pretending to watch TV and waiting for Sirius’ call. He answered on the first ring.

“Hey,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face at how eager he sounded.

“Hi,” Sirius’ voice crackled through the phone, the greeting clipped. Remus thought he heard a door shut from Sirius’ end, like Sirius hadn’t even waited to fully get to his room to dial the phone.

“How’d it go?” Remus asked quieter this time.

He was answered with a groan, and a rustling that sounded like Sirius falling back onto a bed. “It’s…the same. It’s nice to have Regulus playing in the NHL. Takes some of the time away from talking about me.” Sirius groaned. “Why did I come a day early. I wish I had come tomorrow, had one family dinner, and then just flew out the next morning as planned.”

Remus pulled his knees up to his chest, tucking himself into one corner of the couch. “Fuck, Pads, I’m sorry.”

“What can I do, eh? It’s fine.”

Remus frowned, unsettled by the hints of that old, cold tone that Sirius used to carry around when they’d first met. Less than five hours with his family, and already he was shutting himself back down, containing all remnants of his usual self.

“Miss you,” Remus said softly. He wanted to comfort Sirius, but he didn’t want to cross any lines either. They were so new, and he wasn’t sure what he was allowed.

“Remus, you have no idea,” another heavy sigh broke up Sirius’ words. “How much I miss you.”

Remus sprawled out on the couch with a sigh of his own, listening to Sirius breathe on the other side of the phone. Never something he’d thought he’d be doing.

“How’s my favorite super fan?” Sirius asked after a few moments.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “I really hope you aren’t calling me that.”

Sirius laughed. “Julian.”

“Oh,” Remus smiled. “Unknowingly dying that you’re asking. He’s good. He loves hockey, but that means he’d rather be on the ice than do any of his school work which is posing a little bit of problem for my parents but…you know. It’s cute. If he loves it, he should work hard.”

Sirius hummed. “Yeah, I think so.”

“I mean, grades, and all that, but…”

“Hockey,” Sirius said wistfully and Remus laughed, agreeing.

Remus could practically feel Sirius rubbing his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, and so, after a few moments of silence, he asked again, with one addition that he hoped would break the ice that, Remus was quickly learning, Sirius allowed to freeze over when he was around his parents for too long.

“How’d it go, baby?” Remus said quietly into the phone.

Sirius made a low, wounded noise. “Re.”

“I get it if you feel like you can’t talk about it while you’re there.”

Sirius was quiet again. Remus was learning that that was also something he did. He liked it, how careful Sirius was about collecting his thoughts. Like everything he said mattered. Then again, Remus didn’t know how he felt about what in his life could have led to that. The immense media pressure, probably, and everything he said being constantly taken completely out of context.

“I…” Sirius’ began, then stopped. “I can’t.”

Remus nodded, heart squeezing. “Okay. That’s fine, of course, Sirius.”

“No,” Sirius said, voice almost a whisper. “What about—Would you say…again.”

Remus squinted a little, confused. What had he said? And then, he realized.

“It’s alright,” he said, biting his lip. “It’s alright, baby.”

Sirius laughed and it shook a little. “Is that so stupid?”

“No. God, no,” Remus said all in one breath.

“I want to find something to call you,” Sirius said, and then there was a sound like he was rolling over. The next time he spoke, his voice was muffled slightly by pillows. “Something good.”

Remus smiled. “Something in French.”

“If you want.”

“Honestly, I…I really like Loops.”

“Yeah?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah. It makes me, you know.” Remus cleared his throat. “Feel like I’m part of the team.” When Sirius started to protest Remus held up his hand, as if Sirius could see him. “I know, I know, I am. But still. It’s a nice reminder.”

Sirius hummed. “I still want something that’s…just for me.”

Remus’ entire body went warm.

“You call me…” Sirius began.

“Baby,” Remus said breathlessly.

“You’re the only one,” Sirius’ voice was like heat running down Remus’ spine. “I want to be the only one.”

You are, Remus wanted to say. Sometimes it feels like you always have been.

But that was insane.

“Re,” Sirius questioned.

“Sorry, I’m here.”

“Do you…we can FaceTime?”

Remus was hitting the video call feature before he took his next breath. Sirius’ face appeared on the screen, smiling but a little tight around the eyes. Remus wanted to fix it. He wanted to fix it right now.

“Hi,” Sirius said.

“Hi,” Remus said.

They stared at each other, and then Remus swallowed, working up the nerve.

“I…I was thinking about going into the bedroom.”

One corner of Sirius’ mouth quirked up. “I’m already in bed. Catch up, Fruit-Loop.”

Remus couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, a little too giddily for his liking, as he pushed himself off the couch to pad into his bedroom. He crawled onto his bed and, on next looking down at his phone, Sirius was sprawled against the pillows—sans shirt.

“Fuck me,” Remus mumbled, falling back against his pillows. He could feel the anticipation of it all beginning to harden him in his pants and he reached down to squeeze himself through his sweatpants lightly.

Sirius’ eyes were dark and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Montre moi.”

A shiver ran down Remus’ spine. Show me.

Remus squeezed himself again, and then held his phone back so Sirius could see the shape of his dick beginning to press itself against the seam of his sweatpants. He ran his hand along his shaft through the fabric a few times and cupped his balls, beginning to draw up. Sirius let out a shaky breath at the sight and Remus could hear a rustling like he was beginning to play with himself, too. Remus could picture the way Sirius’ nimble, calloused fingers wrapped around himself, the width of his palms. Perfect for scoring goals. Perfect for this.

“I wish you could touch me,” Remus said without thinking, and then flushed.

“I’ll tell you how I would,” Sirius said.

“Show me you first,” Remus said. “I need to see.”

Sirius held his phone back, too, resting it on one of his strong thighs before unbuckling his belt and the dark jeans he was wearing.

“Pads, your jeans. Where the fuck do you keep those all season?”

Sirius laughed, but Remus was soon too distracted for an answer. Sirius was reaching up for the band of his boxers before hooking them below his balls to reveal his semi. He rolled himself in his hand, big even while soft.

“Huh,” Remus’ breath punched out of him and he felt his dick twitch up against his palm.

“Remus,” Sirius said as he gave himself lazy strokes, filling out rapidly.

“Hm?”

“Take your dick out of your pants and make yourself hard.”

Remus couldn’t help but smile. “Well, that’s a familiar tone of voice. Captain.”

Sirius smiled, too, fingers coming to rest around the base of his dick, almost at full mast. The vein was beginning to trace itself out on the underside, and Remus was determined to get him there. He wished he could feel his heartbeat.

Remus complied, shoving his sweats and underwear down to his thighs and then dragging a palm up the length of himself. He didn’t usually get hard so fast, but he already felt sensitive. His dick bobbed in the air a few times.

“Fuck,” Sirius’ voice came lowly through the speakers. “Yeah, Loops, just like that.”

Remus reached over to his bedside table and retrieved a bottle of lube, propping Sirius up on a pillow to take a little into his hand. His grip turned into a slick glide and he let his head fall back in the pillows. Having both of his hands free let him cup one hand around his balls and he spread his thighs a little at how good it felt with Sirius right there.

“You looks so good, Re, mon dieu. Fuck, you don’t even—I bet no one on the team even knows how strong you are under that fucking team jacket. Do you use the team gym?”

Remus let out a breathless laugh, holding his dick around the base and rolling his head to the side to look at Sirius. “That’s what you’re wondering right now, you hockey nerd.”

A faint blush rose to Sirius’ cheeks. “You look so good. You look…God, come out onto the ice to me when I’m home. Fuck, I know you’re good. I can tell by the way you fucking move.” As he spoke, Sirius’ hand began to stroke his dick again. He was hard now, and the tip of his cock was shiny with precome. It was then that Remus remembered just how much of that precome there would be. The thought made him groan and he was suddenly blindingly turned on at the thought of Sirius, just on the other side of the screen, watching him.

“Do that thing you like, Re,” Sirius panted. “The thing on the top.”

“How do you know that?” Remus said. “You’ve seen my dick once.”

“Watching you,” Sirius said simply, and then made a little punched out sound. “Fuck, I never thought I’d get to…”

Remus answered his sound, hips shoving up into his own fist of his own accord.

“Shit,” Sirius murmured, “Remus, Remus…”

Remus pried his eyes open and looked to Sirius, who was already looking at him. His eyes were fixed on the screen, and the camera blurred his fist around himself, but that didn’t stop Remus from seeing the shine dripping on his fingers.

“Do you know how fucking hot that is? It’s like you just—fuck, you’re not coming but you just…”

“Embarrassing, though,” Sirius smiled a little before his mouth dropped open. “Not good for boners at the wrong time. Leak all over my pants.”

“Jesus,” Remus panted, and rubbed his palm over the crown of his dick.

“There you go,” Sirius sounded out of breath and smug. “I was right.”

Remus could only grunt in response.

“Come on, Loops,” Sirius said. “Tighter, make yourself come. Imagine…” Sirius’ voice broke off, and he sounded almost nervous when he began again. “Imagine I—Imagine I’d let you fuck me.”

Remus’ eyes, fallen closed, snapped open. He felt his dick fatten in his hand, red and drooling.

“Sirius…”

“I want that,” Sirius said softly. “If—if you don’t—”

“Yes,” Remus gasped, hand working himself faster. He reached down again to squeeze his balls, heavy now. “Fuck, baby, yes, yes, yes—“

With those words, Remus watched Sirius fall apart, coming in thick strips against his stomach. Sirius cut his own cry off with gritted teeth, his hips flexing up as he worked himself through it, coming and coming.

The sight was enough. Remus’ orgasm hit him hard, made his head heavy against his pillow as his dick pulsed in his hand. His chest heaved and he was faintly aware of Sirius murmuring gently in French as he came down from his high.

Remus caught his breath and looked down at the dark stains on his sweatshirt, and then at Sirius—who looked dazed and sated.

“Fuck,” Sirius laughed, and it was accompanied by his bright smile, the tightness erased. Remus felt pride swell in his chest.

“Better?” Remus smiled.

“Yeah. Lots.”

“Do you…” Remus licked his lips. “Did you mean that? Do you really want that?”

Sirius flushed, but nodded. “I mean,” he ran a hand through his hair, slightly sweaty now so that parts of it stuck up off of his forehead. “I’d be fine with it both ways, honestly. Like—so fine. I mean, Re, I’ve never even…But I want you.”

Remus bit his lip against his smile. “I wish you were here. I’d…any time you want.”

Sirius’ smile turned a little shy, but he had the very same excited look in his eye that he sometimes had before a game.

After they cleaned themselves up, Remus brought his phone into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Sirius made him laugh and drool toothpaste everywhere, but it was worth it just to get to watch Sirius, butt naked, root around in his suitcase for his pajamas.

“Wait,” Remus said as he flicked the bathroom light off. “Is this your childhood room I’m seeing?”

Sirius had set his phone down for a moment to pull his sweatpants on and he laughed before giving Remus a glance around. Remus frowned.

“That looks…”

Sirius crawled into bed, raising his eyebrows at Remus. “Like a hotel room?”

“Yes…a really expensive one.” Remus followed Sirius, badly wishing he was pulling back the covers for the both of them.

“I can’t believe I have this fucking…” Sirius broke off in a yawn, rubbing his eyes. “Fucking dinner tomorrow. I mean Reg will barely look at me, I just…” he shook his head. “I don’t want to just dump this on you.”

“No, no,” Remus said, folding one hand beneath his pillow so it was almost, almost like they were on their sides facing each other. “Pads. You can talk to me.”

Sirius closed his eyes. “No, this was a good night—”

“The only way this could be a bad night is if you go to sleep upset. I hate seeing you hurting, Sirius.”

Sirius smiled a little, but it soon dropped off his face as he stared, eyes a little unfocused. “I never really talk about it. Not to anyone except, you know, therapy. Where I know it won’t get out.”

“Not even to James?” Remus prompted gently, and Sirius shook his head.

“No. I don’t—It’s not an excuse. Plenty of people go through so much worse than a slap around now and then—”

Sirius cut off shortly at Remus’ harsh intake of breath. His gray eyes flicked downward, then back to Remus’ face.

“I thought you knew. The…the phone call in the lounge…”

“I…” Remus swallowed. “I did, I think. I just—to hear you really say it is… That isn’t an excuse. Pads, you…I mean you’re so strong. Think about that. You found help. On your own. That’s twenty times more than a lot of people can say.”

Sirius nodded, picking at the thread on the mattress. “Heather says I have a bad habit of ‘belittling myself,’” Sirius smiled a little. “Like, my problems. I mean, I get hit in hockey all the time. I know, I know that’s different. But it doesn’t always feel different.”

“And Regulus, does he…”

“No. He doesn’t disobey them. Guess he saw the consequences and got the thought through his head earlier than I did.”

Sirius was quiet for a moment, and then a firm, determined look crossed his face. “I wouldn’t trade places with him though. I wouldn’t give up the Lions for anything.”

“What do you mean give up the Lions? Your parents asked you to give up the Lions?”

“They wanted me to get a trade after my rookie year,” Sirius nodded. “My dad played for the Snakes. His career was ended by Godric, you remember. Leo Godric, number 4. It was an accident, but, you know…one wrong hit and you’re done. That’s what happened to my dad and his back. He’s never forgiven the organization for not kicking Godric out of the league.”

Remus could imagine that. Along with Mr. Black’s harsh face. Godric was a hero in Gryffindor, one of their best.

“My mom,” Sirius said, then took a breath like the words were pouring out of him too fast. “My mom saw it that way, too. They put all this work, all this money into making me a good player—”

“You’re the best player,” Remus broke in. “The best, Sirius.”

A sad sort of smile crossed Sirius’ face. “Not if I’m on the Lions. Then I’m just another trader to them.”

“That’s why,” Remus realized, feeling breathless. “That’s why…in the beginning…”

Remus thought of Sirius’ hunched shoulders, his carefully blank face, his cold looks.

Sirius nodded again. “Why make friends if you’re just going to have to leave them? No matter how incredible they seem? My mom—my mom was calling me everyday, saying—making these threats…Dad’d come down to my house and just…well, you know. It’s easy to play off bruises in a locker room.”

Remus shivered at the thought. All the times he’d worked with Sirius, all the times he’d seen various, ugly dark splotches on his ribs and shoulders.

“But you refused,” Remus said, gripping the phone like, through it, he could hold Sirius close. “You refused the trade.”

“I did.”

“Fuck,” Remus rested his cheek against his pillow, not realizing how tense his shoulders had become. “And no one knows?”

“You do, now.”

“Sirius…god, that’s—the Lions Organization—“

“They know, but only because my mother came and,” Sirius laughed bitterly, rubbing his eyes again. “She came and did what she always does. Coach helped me send her away so, I guess he knows, too. At least a little. He didn’t actually make me talk about it.”

Remus didn’t know what to say, only, “I wish you were here. I’d kiss the hell out of you.”

“I’d probably just…shit, what is the word for when ice cream…”

Remus raised an eyebrow, heart beating a little faster. “I…melt?”

“Yes!” Sirius smiled, looking a little brighter. As if his story had lightened him. “I’d melt. I like to kiss you.”

“That…” Remus could only grin back. “Baby.”

Sirius smiled back at him for a moment before he reached out, as if to touch the screen. “We should get some sleep. What is it, now, three? Big day tomorrow, lots of eating. Lots of family. A good family for you. You have to tell Julian I say hi.”

Remus nodded. He would give anything to just be spending the day with Sirius tomorrow, in their sweatpants and keeping an eye on a roasting turkey.

“Yeah,” Remus whispered. “Goodnight, Pads. See you soon, eh?”

“Yeah,” Sirius whispered back. “Re…” he began, but shook his head, as if he didn’t have the words. But Remus knew. “Goodnight.”

The first Remus heard of it was an email from Lions Management. It had been sent out to all of the training and equipment staff, something vague about not talking to reporters. Remus really got the news from twitter.

#BlackBash was trending. And attached to all of the tweets was a video which thumbnail was, at first he thought of Sirius, but then he recognized Regulus Black’s face. It must have been from before the short Thanksgiving break because he was in Snake green in his locker room. Remus held his breath, hand pressed to his throat, as he hit play.

“Regulus,” a reporter’s voice came through faintly from off frame, “Do you have any comments on the rivalry being set up between you and your brother? Does it get in the way of your personal relationship with Sirius at all, being on the Lions and Snakes?”

Regulus didn’t answer for a moment. He seemed like he was trying to play off his hesitation by wiping his face with a towel. But then his eyes, gray-blue like his brother’s, flicked somewhere off camera. His face regained all the sharpness that it had had on the ice.

“My brother’s got a dirty game, slashing and all of that. And you’ve heard him on the ice. I don’t endorse that sort of hockey.”

“And your personal relationship? How about this Thanksgiving—”

“What personal relationship?” Regulus said, eyes dull and casual. “As far as I’m concerned, he might as well stay away with the rest of his pack of cubs.”

Remus stared at the screen. He watched it again. Then again.

It was just—strange. This type of personal attack, especially to locker room media, where you’d be surrounded by staff and teammates. It caused a horrible feeling to sweep through Remus’ chest. At the end of the video, he could just see Snape there, sitting down in his stall beside Regulus’.

He was laughing.

Sirius wasn’t answering his phone.

He was on the plane, Remus tried to tell himself. But he hadn’t even received a good morning text.

He did the next thing he could think of.

The phone rang once before clicking on.

“I’m not reaching him either,” James’ voice said, sounding tight with worry. “This is—fuck, Loops. This isn’t good for him right now.”

He tried Pascal next.

“Remus,” he answered the phone sounding grave. “Good of you to call.”

“That reporter goaded him on but…fuck. What the fuck?” Remus ran a hand through his hair. “Has Sirius called you?”

“I can’t think I’d be above James—”

“I’ve tried James.”

“—and you,” Pascal finished, and Remus blinked.

“Me?” he said.

He could almost feel Pascal’s dark eyebrows raise. “You are friends, non?”

“I…Yeah,” Remus stuttered, feeling his face heat at how jumpy he sounded. “Yeah, no, we are. Just, let me know, if you…”

“Of course, Remus.”

“Thanks, Dumo.”

Remus tried Sirius again, and then a third time when he knew he couldn’t be on the plane anymore. He couldn’t decide if he was more frantic from not hearing from him, or happy that maybe Sirius was trying to keep away from it all. That had to be the healthiest option, even if it was making Remus feel a little insane. He sat down, then stood up again. He watched the video and then threw his phone on the other end of the couch, only to pick it up again.

He was just thinking about catching a cab out to Sirius’ house, when there was a brisk knock on his door.

(A/N: Happy May xx)

#sweater weather #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #wolfstar #wolfstar au #lumosinlove #harry potter #Harry Potter au #hockey!au

447 notes · View notes

ohkiyo · 4 years

Text

characters: shiratorizawa team and reader.

warnings: a bit of cursing.

word count: 3.6k

a/n: shoutout to cloud anon for giving me such marvelous ideas, each one you sent were all so funny it just made my day even better. I do hope you’ll like this one, I got a bit excited to post this, so please don’t mind the mistakes hahaha nor any of the grammatical errors. :D

music I listened to while writing this:

ようかい体操第一 | Dream5

morning smile | nom tunes

your happiness is my happiness | nom tunes

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shiratorizawa navigation || stth navigation

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“What’s the answer on number 4?” Yamagata scratched his head with his pencil, staring at his exercise paper on the table, the numbers not making any sense to him anymore. He could feel his fingers starting to hurt from the amount of times he had been pressing the buttons of his calculator, but he could still not find the answer he was looking for, the calculator’s screen displaying syntax error.

“It’s 126.76” Reon replied, not looking up from his own paper as he concentrates on his own set of problems. It had been easy, the first few questions were doable, nothing out of the ordinary, however, when he reached numbers 10 and above he swore the teacher was high when he made that exercise.

I mean, what’s the point of making a multiple choice question when the answer is not even in the choices.

“What? I thought it was 116” now Semi was starting to get even more frustrated, he was sure his answer was correct, he even searched up a tutorial on YouTube on how to solve that particular equation.

“You need to add the 10, not subtract it” Shirabu corrected, as Semi erased his current answer and started replacing it with the right one. Mumbling to himself how the fuck is calculus useful in the real world, you don’t see people adding a and b to buy a sack of rice, nor finding x to purchase fruits in the market.

Math is ridiculous; he hopes that whoever invented this shit suffers in hell.

“Let’s rest for now” Ushijima suggested, closing his notebook as he rested his pencil on top of it. Aware of just how everyone was getting stressed.

“Where did Satori go?” Semi looks around the room, noticing that the redhead had disappeared. “Taichi and Tsutomu too”

“They went out to go get food”

“They did?”

Yamagata nodded his head, lazily going through the books stacked on top of Tendou’s desk, most of them were manga that he had read and re-read, while the others were borrowed books from the library that he had never bothered to return.

There was a knock on the door, as Semi who was the closest, stood and opened it to reveal the people they have been looking for a while ago.

“We’re back!” Tendou announced cheerily, a tupperware in his hands as he entered the room, followed by Kawanishi, Goshiki and someone unfamiliar.

“Who’s that?” Shirabu pointed, raising a questioning brow at the person’s choice of clothing. An oversized sweater, shorts that reach below their knees and a swan patterned socks.

“What do you mean? That’s (Y/n)” you lift your hand up in a wave, the sweater’s long sleeve covering your own arm. A wide smile on your face, as you sat down on the floor along with them, Semi closing the door and locking it.

“What?”

No words left their mouth as they stared at you, you looked pretty convincing as a boy, the wig you wore accentuated your face just right. However, did Tendou really have you wear a wig that was an exact replica of Goshiki’s signature bowl-cut? Of all the millions of hairstyles he could choose from, really?

“Did you just smuggle her in?” Reon asks in disbelief. “How did you do it?”

“(Y/n)’s so small nobody noticed her” you swat Kawanishi with your sweater sleeve as he snickered, ruffling your hair before opening the bag you brought with you. Taking out different containers full of food, plates, chopsticks and other eating utensils.

“Where’d you get all these from? Did you order take-out?” Semi took a bite of the chicken strip, humming in satisfaction at the delicious taste, before taking another piece.

“(Y/n) was stress cooking again” Goshiki answered as he helped Ushijima clear the table, with you carefully placing the foods in the middle and Shirabu spreading the utensils on the table.

“Are you having problems with your academics again (Y/n)?” Ushijima inquired, pouring himself a glass of water as everyone situated themselves around the table, offering their thanks and serving themselves with the food you cooked.

“I have an oral recitation tomorrow and I’m worried I’ll mess it up” you replied, biting on your chopstick. “The subject teacher isn’t very nice either, I’m scared of her”

“Who’s the teacher?”

“Tachibana-sensei”

Hearing the familiar name, both third years and second years involuntarily shuddered. Memories of their days as her students resurface, the struggle they experienced trying to hold onto the thin thread keeping their grades up were a bit traumatic.

Tachibana-sensei was the kind of teacher that students hate the most, she enjoys giving surprises, surprise quiz, surprise recitation, heck, even her exams are a surprise. It’s rare for her to even give her students the time to fully study their material, and for those who were under her knows that when she does, she’ll be firing questions one after the other, until her students are unable to give her answers leaving her disappointed.

“May the gods be in your favor (Y/n)” Tendou clapped a hand on your shoulder as he gave you a sympathetic smile. His eyes silently telling you ‘You’re screwed’

Goshiki noticed the look of terror flashed on your face, your hand shaking out of pure nervousness as you almost spilled the food on your plate. Does Tachibana-sensei really have that kind of reputation? He never had her as his subject teacher in any of his classes, well for now at least, but he sure is thankful, he didn’t need that kind of problem in his first year of high school.

“Don’t scare her” Semi hits Tendou with a notebook, scolding him for scaring you as you now sat there frozen, your mind going through the possible outcomes that might happen tomorrow.

“You’ll be fine, don’t worry about it. You’re smart” Shirabu’s words of encouragement did help you relax a little, but the fear still lingered in your mind. You felt something prodding at your lips, you focused your eyes in front of you to see Kawanishi holding up a piece of chicken near your mouth.

“Eat first, I can help you with it later” He says in between mouthfuls as you open your mouth, accepting the food. Nodding at his offer.

You will worry about your demon of a teacher later, for now, you’re going to enjoy your food.

“By the way Satori, I saw this earlier” Yamagata pulled out a scrapbook from under the stacks of manga on the desk. The front cover is littered with stickers, and doodles, a very Tendou-esque kind of design.

"Oh that's where I’ve compiled the photos I took, I’ve just started so it’s not done yet" Tendou answered, watching as Yamagata opened the scrapbook, and going through the pictures. "Photography's my newfound hobby now"

"That photography workshop was only once, I didn't know you actually took it seriously"

"It’s a form of art Eita-kun" the red head held up a finger, going on and on about how it captures all the once in a lifetime moments we experience, and how pictures hold the memories they make together.

Tendou started getting sappy with his explanation, Semi had to shove an onigiri in his mouth to stop him from talking.

"Do you have a soft copy of these pictures Tendou?" Ushijima questioned, reading through the captions Tendou pasted around each photo. "I need a copy"

"I'll send it to you later Wakatoshi-kun"

"You have another one?" Shirabu held another scrapbook in his hand. "How many do you have?"

"I have three" Shirabu flipped through the pages of the one he's holding, noticing that most of the pictures were of the second years in the club, but majority of them were of him and Kawanishi.

"Where's the other one?"

Tendou patted around in his bed for a moment, feeling for the familiar hard bound of the scrapbook before he finally found it resting under his backpack.

"These are pictures of the first years" You became interested, peeking over Semi's shoulder as he flipped through the pages. "Oh I remember this one."

It was a picture of both you and Goshiki asleep inside the bus, your head resting on his shoulder and his head resting over your own. A jacket covering your bodies acting as a blanket. Below there was a text saying, The babies first away game.

"Tendou-san, we're not babies anymore." Goshiki reasoned but Tendou refused to agree to the first year.

"Oh hush, in my eyes you two are still babies." to emphasize his point, Tendou squished both your and Goshiki's cheek. Grinning at the pout now resting on your face. "See? Just adorable!"

"You're playing favorites, you know" Reon watches as Tendou continues to coddle the two youngest members in their group. The both of you trying to get away from Tendou refuse to let go.

Semi flipped to another page, this time there was a picture of you and him. Both of you standing near the grill as he teaches you how to properly cook meat, while you eagerly wait by the sides, all the while watching the meat being grilled on top of the fire. Eyes almost sparkling at how mouthwatering it is. At the bottom another caption was written, baby’s first barbecue.

"I think I found my new favorite" Semi looked up from the photobook he's holding, to Tendou still gushing over Goshiki and (Y/n). "Satori, send me a soft copy of this one"

"Roger!"

Finally, after almost thirty minutes both you and Goshiki were finally able to push the red head away as you all clean up the dirty dishes, throwing away the plastics and food crumbs into the trash can. Then resuming to their study session.

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The next day, morning practice was starting a bit later than usual so the gym was still half empty, the only occupants were the regulars who decided to come early and do their own pre-practice warm ups. Semi was doing his usual jump serves with Yamagata receiving the balls to practice more on his digs. While on the other net, Shirabu was practicing with Goshiki after some begging from the first-year’s side.

You watch as Semi spins a ball on his hands, licking his lips, something he does whenever he’s trying to pinpoint where he wants the ball to land before throwing it in the air and jumping. Cringing at the sound of his palm colliding with the ball and watching as Yamagata runs to receive it.

“That was by the line!” your eyes went wide in awe, running to retrieve the ball and jogging back to Semi’s side of the net. As Yamagata let out a sigh wiping his sweat with his shirt.

“That’s the kind of serve that will annoy you the most”

Semi bounce the ball a few times, before pausing and turning to you. “Do you want to try (Y/n)?”

You nodded your head, eager to learn from one of the best servers in your team. You always find them very cool whenever they do those awesome spikes and jump serves. To you, they look like they’re flying whenever they jump so high, you were feeling a bit envious about it.

Standing beside Semi, he explained to you how to angle your hand properly and the timing of when to hit the ball.

“What’s your dominant hand?”

You lift up your left hand and said “This one”

“Oh? You’re a lefty [1] too?” the both of you turn to look at the ace to see that he had started listening as well “Just like Wakatoshi”

“Try doing a normal serve for now” standing by the service line, you readied your position, as Yamagata took a receiving stance at the other side of the net.

“Give it all you’ve got (Y/n)-chan!”

You nodded your head, throwing the ball, watching it before hitting it with your hand as hard as you can, which was a lot for a newbie. Yamagata dove to get the ball, the object bouncing off his arm and shooting off to the side.

“One point for (Y/n)!” you heard Tendou’s voice from the other side of the gym as Semi applauds your good work. You started feeling giddy, hitting that ball was so satisfying you feel like the stress you were currently having this morning was starting to ease just a little bit.

“Do it again (Y/n)-chan!” Goshiki’s voice reached your ears as he abandoned Shirabu, who let out a sigh of relief, finally able to take the rest he had been wanting.

“How about a jump serve?” Ushijima suggested, as he too walked to your group, now interested in your new found talent.

Semi twirled the ball in his hand, biting the inside of his cheek. “That one’s a bit tricky Wakatoshi”

“She can do it” Ushijima turns to look at you as Goshiki keeps on slapping your back, getting excited for some reason, and honestly, you were excited as well. Ushijima rarely shows this kind of interest, so for someone who only learned the basics of volleyball through reading the manual and watching it, it was a shock for you.

“Can I?” you ask, your eyes sparkling “It never hurts to try”

Now, with you looking at him like that, how could Semi say no? you just look so cute he really has to stop himself from pinching those cheeks of yours.

“Alright, but I think Wakatoshi can teach you better” Semi threw the ball to Ushijima who nodded his head, wordlessly taking his position at the serving line. You watch how he handles the ball, you don’t even know if there’s a difference with righties serving compared to the lefties, but you paid attention anyways. Watching him run, jump and hit the ball as hard as he can.

Semi just sighed, Ushijima didn’t even say anything, he just did what he normally did. As if expecting you to learn something from it. But then again, Ushijima did the same thing to Goshiki once when the first-year asked how to improve his line shots, he can’t judge too soon.

Bouncing the ball a few times, you threw it in the air watching as you slowly run before jumping and serving it to the other side, the ball hitting the back line.

“Two points!” Everyone cheered for you, the others sporting surprise looks on their face. Jump serves were very hard to do, most would normally be hitting the net or the ball going out of bounce. But you, just one look at a live sample and voila, success.

“Do it again, (Y/n)-chan! This time I’ll make sure to receive it!” you grin at Yamagata’s challenge, doing the same thing you did the first time. You hit the ball with the hardest one you could muster. Watching as it spins fast, going past Yamagata and narrowly hitting Coach Saito in the face.

The coach blinks, frozen on his spot as he silently thanks whatever deities that decided to grace him with their blessings. Everyone was quiet, shocked at what just happened. He turned his head, his eyes scanning whoever was the culprit of his near death experience only to see you standing at the service line.

“I-I think that’s enough for now” he cleared his throat, tucking the clipboard he’s holding under his arms “Let’s prepare for practice”

You all nodded your head, gathering the stray balls and tossing them into the basket, mopping up the sweat that dropped on the floor as the rest of the members started piling into the gym.

Practice went by pretty fast, Coach Washijou had to cut it short because exam week was approaching and according to the school rule book, extracurricular activities must be shortened in order to give the students more time to study.

They were currently having their post practice snacks, filling their hungry stomach with some delicious food as they rest their body. Practice may have been short but it doesn’t mean Coach Washijou made it easy, in fact, he made it even harder.

You were sitting cross legged on the floor, finishing up the notes you were writing earlier, sipping on a juice box you brought with you while your other hand moved across the white pages of your notebook.

Seeing as your pen was running out of ink, you placed your juice box on the floor then reaching over for your bag to retrieve another one. Just as you were about to take another sip of your drink, it slipped from your grasp, landing on your lap, its contents spilling over your notes.

“Motherfucker” you were too focused cleaning yourself up that you didn’t hear Semi’s dramatic gasp, the curse that left your lips was foreign to his ears as he had never heard you say such a vulgar word before.

“Uh-oh”

Those who were closest to the door quietly slipped out, they knew what was coming next, and they’re not going to be a part of it. The coaches watched from the sidelines as Semi started lecturing them about their choices of words, reminding them that no swear words allowed in the presence of the first years.

Washijou-sensei shot his assistant a look, eyebrows raised “It was you, wasn’t it?”

Coach Saito sheepishly scratches his cheek, as he remembers how the swear word left his lips yesterday when he hit his hip at the side of the table. Not realizing that you were standing outside, ready to give to him the report he requested.

He didn’t even know that such a thing was forbidden within the club, he quickly reminded himself to watch his language the next time the first years were around, he doesn’t want Semi going all mama mode again.

«──────────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────────»

Lunch was spent eating together in the cafeteria, sitting at their usual table as they enjoyed the break from their tiring classes. Although the dining area was pretty rowdy, it did serve as a distraction from whatever their teachers prepared for their afternoon sessions.

“Today’s korokke has shrimp in it” Tendou took another bite of the fried dish, the food still hot and fresh. “Yummy”

“But…” Kawanishi started, his eyes shifting over to you as you munch on your own piece of korokke “(Y/n)’s allergic to shrimp”

The table went quiet as they all looked at you, they didn’t know that, why didn’t you tell them?

“Oh my god, her allergy is reacting” Semi stood up from his seat as red dots started to appear on your face, you gave the remaining korokke to Goshiki as you scratch your arm, your whole body feeling itchy.

“Let’s take her to the infirmary”

They quickly led you to the nurse’s office, the red dots that were just around your mouth had now spread all over your face. Looking as if you had just contacted chicken pox.

Thankfully, the nurse was still in her office when they arrived so you were immediately given some medicine to stop your allergy from becoming worse.

“You’ll have to go back to your room and take a rest for the rest of the day, then come back tomorrow again so I could give you another check-up. Alright?”

She handed you the excuse note for you to give to your teachers the next day as you stood up from your seat, thanking the nurse then exiting the room to see that the boys had waited for you outside.

“So, what did she say?”

“I’m excused from my classes this afternoon” you showed them the paper the nurse gave you. Shirabu reading through what she wrote, Kawanishi reading the paper’s contents from over his shoulder.

“I need one too”

“Why? are you sick?”

“No, I just want to skip class today”

Semi sighs at what the middle blocker just said, if anything, Kawanishi was definitely the laziest among them all. Always looking for ways to avoid any activities he finds energy consuming, Semi was quite surprised Kawanishi had not tried sending their coach a fake medical certificate just so he could skip practice for a few days.

Oh wait, he did, and he got away with it.

“You look like a tomato” Goshiki pokes you on the cheek, the redness slowly fading but your face still slightly swollen. “Tomato-chan~”

Tendou grinned at the cute nickname, tomato-chan? He was so going to start calling you that from now on.

“Oh wait (Y/n), let me take a picture of you first. This would be a great addition to my scrapbook” Tendou patted his pockets for his phone but he felt none. “Eh?”

“What’s wrong?”

��I think I left my phone in the cafeteria” Tendou answered, slipping his hand inside his pockets for good measure, but the device was nowhere to be found. “Reon let me borrow your phone for a bit”

Reon shook his head “I left mine in the cafeteria as well”

“What?!” Tendou turned to look at the rest of the members as they too shook their heads.

You chuckled, patting his back “Guess there won’t be any funny photos of me for the time being” you started walking away waving at them. “See you tomorrow”

They waved back as they went back to the cafeteria, until a phone ringing cut through the silence. Ushijima stops in his tracks, fishing the phone from his pocket as he realizes that he forgot he brought it along with him the whole time.

“Wakatoshi-kun, why didn’t you tell me you had your phone with you?”

“I apologize Tendou, do you still want to take that photo?”

They turned their heads to the direction you left but you weren’t there anymore. Tendou’s shoulder slump, the opportunity to finally have a derpy picture of you gone and would probably be far into the future.

Yamagata just let out a laugh. “It seems like the goddess Kichijoten [2] favors (Y/n) more than anyone else”

«──────────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────────»

[1] I’m a lefty so yeah, self promo I guess lol.

[2] she’s the Japanese goddess of beauty.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #ushijima wakatoshi #semi eita #tendou satori #yamagata hayato #oohira reon #shirabu kenjirou #kawanishi taichi #goshiki tsutomu #shiratorizawa

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farfromharry · 4 years

Text

always (part two) | harry holland series

summary: you finally find out why you were feeling so sick and tell Harry everything

word count - 2.5k

warnings - language, mentions of pregnancy

“i missed you so much, where have you been all week, are you okay?” he rambled, overwhelming you with questions. It’d been a week since your breakup with Nate, and a week since you had broken down to Harry on your bathroom floor. You had gone slightly MIA, but Harry has given you your space like he knew you needed.

So when you texted him, asking him to come over out of nowhere, he happily complied, walking into your flat with a loud ‘honey, i’m home.’ The cheesy phrase made you giggle, which you greatly appreciated after a hard week.

You practically threw yourself in his arms when you saw him, leading you to where you were currently.

Harry clinged to you, his arms around your neck and his cheek mushed against yours. This is how he was trying to convince you to come to the pub with him and his friends. His methods didn’t seem to work on you at all, much to his dismay, and yours, because he didn’t tell you he already had plans.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” You nodded your head, turning around to face him with a small smile. You hugged his waist tightly, hiding your face in his chest.

“We can wait for you to get ready.” His eyes were pleading with you, just wanting to spend time with his favourite girl, but you knew he’d understand.

“I still don’t feel good, ‘m sorry.” He nodded, placing a friendly kiss to your forehead.

“s’okay, i understand.”

“maybe another time.” He nodded.

“Am I okay to come here after?” You nodded, flashing him a smile. He thanked you, saying one last goodbye before leaving your flat to go and meet his friends. You sighed loudly when he was out of the door, grabbing your phone off the sofa and pulling up one of your contacts that you knew you could trust with your life.

“hello?” She asked.

“hi um, do you think you could come over, i really need you right now.” You received an ‘of course’ and a promise of her being no longer than 10 minutes. In that short amount of time you did your best to tidy up your living room as best as you could, giving up halfway after realising she wouldn’t care after you told her what was wrong.

A knock on your door startled you, even though you were expecting it, opening it to see Nikki standing there concerned.

“what’s happened hun?” You collapsed into her arms with a cry, her hands coming up to stroke your hair as she tried to calm you down.

Nikki had been like a mum to you ever since you met Harry many years ago. Always helping you with things and secretly rooting for you and Harry to get together; not that she’d tell you both that though.

Nikki instructed you to breathe deeply, the flow of your tears slowly coming to a halt.

“what’s wrong?” You took a deep breath, looking into her eyes as more tears built up.

“i think i’m pregnant.” Even if Nikki was shocked, she tried to hide it for your sake, knowing being calm in this situation would be more comforting.

“you stay here darling, i’ll go buy some tests and we’ll figure this out together.” You thanked her, offering some money that she straight up refused before she left.

Being alone meant you were thinking deeply about your current situation, absolutely scared to death. You were only 21, recently single and had no idea how you mother a child, especially alone. It’s safe to say you were panicking massively.

Thankfully Nikki was back in no time, handing you a bag and tightly clasping your hands in hers.

“so just, go into the bathroom, take a few of these and i’ll wait with you for the results, okay?” You nodded slowly, trying to process all the information at once. You did as she said, taking a few of the tests and setting them on your bathroom counter, letting her in afterwards to sit with you.

You sat on the edge of your bathtub, Nikki’s arm around you while your head rested on her shoulder.

“there’s lots of options if you are pregnant, we can sort this sweetheart.” You nodded, tearing up again.

“i’m so scared.” She placed a kiss on your head, just like Harry had done earlier, stroking your arm to comfort you.

“i know, but it’s all going to be okay.” Those 2 minutes were the scariest minutes of your life. they seemed to last an eternity. When the timer on your phone finally went off you took a deep breath, pushing yourself up and moving over to the counter.

“you got this.” You encouraged yourself. you looked at the test, seeing the two pink lines that made you let out a sob. Nikki came up behind you and pulled you into her arms, glancing at the tests to see what you were crying at, even though she could’ve taken a guess for herself.

She stayed to comfort you for a while, promising she’d leave before Harry arrived so you could tell him in private. She got you a hot drink and a warm blanket, helping you relax on the sofa, wiping any remnants of any tears away.

After Nikki left, you couldn’t force yourself to even get up from the couch, not even to go to the bathroom or put your mug down, sitting and just thinking about everything.

Finally, your door unlocking caught your attention, Harry entering with a smile, walking in a near straight line, which meant he was mostly sober.

“hey.” You hummed in response, watching as he made himself at home, collapsing on the couch next to you.

“how was your night?” He asked, unknowingly. you thought about how to answer, knowing this wasn’t the right way to tell him the news. You’d get there soon enough.

“strange, how was yours?” Harry’s eyes lit up as he threw his arm around you. For the next half an hour he ranted and laughed about the multiple things that had happened with his friends on this ‘crazy’ night out. He reiterated some of the jokes, managing to make you quietly laugh at times, but you nodded along anyway, only partly listening.

“Harry.” he didn’t even notice you had mumbled his name.

“it was hilarious, i wish you’d have come, you wo-“

“i’m pregnant.” The words died off on his tongue. His eyes widened and he looked at you in a mix of confusion and fear.

“what?” He asked, hoping he’d heard you wrong.

“i’m pregnant.” You didn’t even try to hold back this wave of tears, Harry taking the empty mug from you and placing it on the table before letting you bury your face in his hoodie, letting all of your emotions out. He wrapped his arms around you, stroking your back as your heart wrenching sobs filled his ears.

“how?” He asked.

“i-i don’t know, we always used protection.” He grimaced, hating picturing the idea of you having sex with Nate. However, he pushed that to the back of his mind to focus on you in the moment.

“I need to tell him, don’t i?” He shook his head.

“no, if you think it’s best he doesn’t know, then don’t feel like you have to say anything.” He brushed some loose hair behind your ears, wiping your tears with his thumb.

“i know you probably don’t want to, especially not with the way things ended but-“

“he has a right to know.” As much as it pained him, he nodded. You picked up your phone from the coffee table, pulling up the contact you thought you’d never have to dial again.

“should i call him?”

“It's whatever you think is best, I'll give you some privacy.” You thanked him, although you weren’t sure you even wanted him to leave.

“hey.” Harry couldn’t help but feel protective over you after what had happened with Nate, not even a week and a half ago. So even though he knew he probably shouldn’t have, he stood in the doorway of the kitchen, listening just to make sure you were okay.

When Harry re-entered the room a while later, he noticed you sitting in the same position you were in when he left.

“what happened?” You looked up at him and sighed.

“said he’s not ready to be a dad, blamed it all on me pretty much.” Harry scoffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“do i need to beat the shit out of him, cause I will.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“you couldn’t hurt a fly.” He gasped in offense.

“that is not true.” He let you lay your head on his shoulder, throwing some of the fluffy blanket over his lap so the two of you could cuddle together.

“I think you’d be a great mum, you know.” He said, out of nowhere.

“really?” You asked insecurely, receiving a confirming nod. You smiled and nuzzled your cheek deeper into his chest, fighting off sleep so you could finish your conversation.

“how come?” His fingers in your hair paused their movements, a whine of protest coming from you.

“I've seen how you are with Theo, how protective you get over Paddy, it comes naturally to you.”

“that really means a lot, thank you Harry.” Your eyes had teared up at some point in the conversation, your heart warming knowing your favourite person thought you’d succeed in this.

“always.”

—

For the next few days, Harry had been spending time at his family home, wanting to bond with his twin for a little bit after not seeing him for a while. You didn’t mind in the slightest, except you were starting to get lonely, missing your curly headed friend, more than you’d be willing to admit to his face.

So when you received a text Friday night telling you Sam was going out, you instantly took that as an invitation to come over. Although you probably shouldn’t have been so quick to assume, you just missed his freckled face.

So that’s where you ended up, knocking on Harry’s door after 3 or 4 days of not seeing him, as well as the week after your breakup too, knocking on his door.

“i feel like all we’ve said to each other these past few days is i miss you.” He rambled as he opened the door. you thought about it before nodding your head.

“you’re right, but I did miss you though.” You confirmed.

“missed you too.” He kissed your head, letting you follow him to the kitchen where he already had your food for the night set out.

“got you your favourite.”

“you’re an angel, sir.” You sat down across from him.

“with the way you’re eating, you look like the pregnant one.” You joked, taking note of his cramped plate. Harry ended up cracking another joke on top of yours that had you both bursting into laughter.

After the laughter died down there was an uncomfortable silence lingering in the air, one that neither you or Harry were used to when it came to each other. Of course you didn’t want to say anything, worried it was all in your head and you’d offend the male if you said anything.

However, you didn’t have time to ponder that thought for long, Harry practically reading your mind for you.

“this is weird right?” He asked. You nodded.

“why does this feel so awkward?” you asked, Harry's head snapping up and a blush coating his cheeks.

“i-i don’t know how to act around you now you’re pregnant.” He admitted.

“seriously?” You asked with a laugh. Harry’s embarrassment getting worse.

“I'm still me, Harry, just can’t drink alcohol anymore.” Harry took a deep breath and nodded, rising from his chair and heading to his fridge.

“Guess I'll have to drink for both of us then.” He winked and you rolled your eyes, watching him pop open a beer and instantly taking a gulp.

“you’re so mean.”

“What did i do?” He teased, a smirk on his lips.

“rubbing it in that i can’t drink.” You pouted, Harry laughing when glancing at your sad eyes.

“I mean, you came to see me, can’t really complain now.” You rolled your eyes.

“i’m actually only here for paddy.” Harry gasped, feigning offense.

“you don’t mean that.” You heard the front door open, Nikki and Paddy’s voices echoing through the hallway. Paddy practically ran to you when he saw you, wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

“oh, but i do.”

After Paddy had left the kitchen, claiming he was going to play some game with his friends, Nikki made her way over to you, surveying the mess Harry had made while eating and scoffing at her son.

“how have you made such a mess Harry?” Ye looked at his mum sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders, being let off with an eye roll.

“and how’s the mother to be?” You smiled at Nikki, accepting her side hug.

“hungry.” You whined, eyeing part of Harry’s food that you’d been dying to try.

“you’ve got enough food to feed four of you Harry, you’re never gonna eat all that, let her have some.” She hit him up the side of the head, making you giggle as he looked almost offended at his mum’s betrayal. He glared at you playfully, ignoring your innocent smile as you stole some of his food off his plate.

“thank you Harry.” You teased. He mimicked you, a snort leaving your mouth that then made Harry laugh loudly. The two of you ate with minimal conversation,a few jokes thrown in here and there. Both of you seeming almost equally as hungry, despite only one of you being pregnant, which you definitely kept teasing your best friend about.

“d’you wanna watch a film?” You shook your head.

“I should be getting home, I have work tomorrow.” Harry pouted, stating that he just wasn’t going to let you leave him.

“i have to go, ‘m sorry.” You kissed his cheek, grabbing your jacket off of the back of your chair.

“just promise we can hang out again soon.”

“we will.”

“I mean really soon, miss.” You nodded.

“of course.” You slipped on your shoes and placed your hand over your belly, out of a new habit you’d developed rather quickly. Harry noticed, smiling at you as you already began proving his point of how good of a mum you’d be.

“thank you for tonight, i really appreciated the distraction.” You said, hugging his waist tightly.

“it’s my pleasure, but at least let me drive you home.” You shook your head, denying his offer.

“I'm fine Harry, I'm pregnant, not dead.” He rolled his eyes.

“I just worry about you.” He whined.

“i know, but i’m a big girl.”

“whatever.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, finally agreeing to let you go.

“goodbye Harry, i love you.” You sang. He shook his head in amusement.

“i love you too, and i’ll see you soon.” You waved before heading to your car, a content feeling in your stomach as you thought about tonight’s events.

“the things you do to me Harry Holland.”

harry holland + always taglist - @euphorichxlland @theliterarymess @drie-the-derp @sunkisseddreamer @call-me-baby-gir1 @fallinfortom @hollandbroz-n-haz @hopelessly-harry @icyhollands @iwearheadphones @thevelvetseries @minejungwoo

#harry holland x reader #harry holland one shot #harry holland imagine #harry holland

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ilkkawhat · 3 years

Note

Any tips for first time writers? Specifically any tips and tricks for writing CSI stories and the Nick/Greg ship? Trying to stay in character and make the story interesting like a show episode instead of a boring text procedural is hard.

lmao as someone who is forever insecure about my own writing when it comes to keeping the characters in character, I think something to keep in mind is that you may view a character differently than someone else--and sometimes those views align with others, and most of the time it's better than what's presented in canon, and it can be really difficult to get confident about that, but I think that creating anything, even if it's not just writing--drawing, giffing, photo edits, etc, you do know and love that character enough to bring them to life under your hands and it's something that's just so like, poetic about keeping these characters alive, even if the show offed them or the show is cancelled, in these works (honestly the song "poet" by bastille says this best imo) and you may end up discovering parts of yourself as you explore these characters in depth, you'll learn more about them, too, and the more you write, the more confidence you will gain

but be weary of the validation trap (says someone who falls into it literally every time I post a fic)--do not rely on comments and feedback to let you know you're doing it "right." the fact that you're getting thoughts into words onto paper is good enough, and you are good enough and even if you don't end up sharing it, you still did something special that nobody else has done before, and that, is amazing!

I'm not gonna lie, a huge weakness of mine that I feel I've known ever since I started writing CSI fic is that I really don't do well in making cases for the CSIs to work on--and even when I do, the case is usually forgotten by the end of the fic and I end up just kinda focusing on the emotions between the characters and describing their feelings and actions the best I can and unfortunately the plot sometimes suffers because of that.

I guess it really depends on what you want out of your story--do you want a really intriguing case and basically make an episode of CSI, or do you want to kind of bend out of the procedural drama, and just write something fluffy like Nick/Greg going on a roadtrip or something actiony like them getting into some sort of trouble? (as I often do lmao)

Something that does always help me when I do decide I want an actual like, "plot" to the fic beyond just playing around with the characters and making them do things or experience things is that I'll make myself a very flexible outline--which I will admit, at times, does kinda drain the fun out of the actual writing part but I found that I'll try to write chapters/fics in segments in this way, like I'll have the start of a fic, and then when I feel like I need to break but want to write what I got going next, I'll have something in brackets like: [Self deprecation at home/drinking, evil Nick in the mirror?] (for agony), and sometimes maybe a bigger summary, and sometimes less to just kinda remind myself of what I wanted to accomplish with a fic

BUT know that there are gonna be things that pop up sometimes. twists that come to you halfway through a fic--or if you're lucky, you'll find that your reader friends will kinda give you a twist to add in (my fic Last Breath is the greatest example of this--I originally was gonna do like, 12 chapters but then @dannilea said "HEY MK GIVE NICK AMNESIA" and then the fic got doubled in length lmao) so don't feel confined to any sort of outline. go with the flow, go with what feels right for you.

I know it's a lesson I'm still learning myself, but do not pressure yourself with these sorts of things. there are no deadlines. you're not doing anything wrong. if you don't like something you wrote? don't delete it (i've deleted so many things--fics, my entire blog, old art and gifs I did and it's one of my biggest regrets that I carry with me and god...it just hurts) but don't be afraid to tweak, re-write or rework if you need to--I know ao3 has an option where you can even say something is a "remix" of another work if you write a fic and then somewhere down the line, decide to expand on it or change it up? (I think it's meant for that at least, I haven't done that sort of thing....yet)

and that's another thing--you'll always be learning new things as you keep writing. I've been writing since I was like, twelve years old. Had a long ass depressive gap (though I did still write some things, just not...as intensely as I used to) before I came back to the CSI fandom (which I never felt I contributed to before, when I joined tumblr I posted some caps but that was about it, it really wasn't until 2018 that I started giffing and writing and three years later lmao here we are!) and there are just hard lessons you do learn--like I said, the validation trap and pressure and all of that

but motivation wise, something I've been (trying) to do is write at least 100 words per day. Doesn't have to be a specific fic, doesn't have to be anything I intend to make a fic, but just...getting the words flowing. But again, no pressure, because I recently had another depressive bout and went 33 days without writing and it climaxed to me having another mental breakdown swearing I was never gonna write again and damn near deleting everything and giving up.........only to start writing again the next day (and full disclosure, I did have a friend helping me literally every day with that and if they read this, I hope they know how forever grateful I am that they convinced me to keep going and I would not actually be here without them)

You will need to recharge, you will need to be mindful of outside stresses that may be impacting your creative energies. And sometimes, you can try doing things not relating to writing at all. Make a playlist of songs that make you think about the fic; if you can, draw or make photo edits of the fic. find a friend to bounce ideas off of--so many of my fics were enriched by that, I can't even begin to list them all lol.

But above all, again, just know that what you're writing is unique to you, nobody else will be able to write the way you do, and that is just...so special. writing can be difficult, it's exhausting, it's a thankless job at times but when those words start clicking together and your fingers just keep typing/writing, you'll just kinda get this like, rush like nothing I've ever been able to match.

and lmao I know you said specifically CSI and Nick/Greg and feel like I got sidetracked--but the great thing about CSI is I feel like you'll have excuses to put them in situations given their line of work, but like I said before, you can bend out of the genre a little bit. Have Nick and Greg go on a vacation, or make an AU (even something as wild as a sci-fi AU--honestly Specimen Stokes is the most fun I've had in writing the past three years) or if you do want to stick to canon, and don't want to make a whole new case or elaborate on the details--play with an established episode. If there was a Nick focused episode, what was Greg doing and vice versa? Did they talk about things afterwards, or did something happen leading up to the episode that made them act a certain way around each other?

I'll honestly find inspiration also just watching the episodes--something I've been doing in these past few months of my rewatch is making little ficlets about the episode, like I wrote one about Nick and Greg post 6x02 elaborating on the breathplay that Greg hinted about earlier in the episode, or I made a revenge fic for 14x12 where that douchey abusive husband went after Nick, etc. So sometimes it helps to dive back into canon and play in that sandbox too

I hope these tips can help get you started and honestly, don't feel obligated to agree or do any of these things I listed above. We all have different ways of going about writing, and it is just one big learning process and something I don't think I'm ever gonna perfect or master in any sort of way--(not to say I think I'm the worst writer in the world but I just...try to humble myself and not believe I'm the best or better than anybody else cause that's part of the validation trap, you get those ideas in your head and then it can destroy you when you realize you're definitely not)--and there will be times you get heavily discouraged, but...you just gotta keep going. keep pushing. find outside encouragement, but don't rely on it. practice a lot of self care and don't pressure yourself to finish or share or write more than you think you can. just...let it come, and enjoy the ride

I honestly feel like I'm one of the least qualified to say all of these things, but I really do hope it helps and hey, you already got one cheerleader, me, who will be excited to read whatever you share!

#writing #(does this novel of advice count towards my word count goal 😂 jk i already hit it)#mk talks

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probably-writing-x · 4 years

Text

Re-centre

Tom Holland x Reader

Not my gif

My requests are open if you have any ideas <3

“Come on Tom don’t be ridiculous!” You match his volume, “I had every right to be annoyed. We’d planned this thing for weeks!”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, (Y/n)!” He continues to defend, “I’ve had a busy schedule with everything going on and it just slipped my mind. I can’t change that.”

“I reminded you that morning!” You point out, “And it’s not like you were doing something you couldn’t get out of. Drinks with the boys? You can do that anytime!”

The derivative of this argument had stemmed from Tom missing an important evening you were supposed to be attending for your business. He knew you’d been terrified about it for weeks and you’d been prepping to meet all of these important business figures since you’d first been invited. You wanted him by your side. Instead, he’d supposedly forgotten and gone out with the boys for drinks instead. Sure, he had been busy recently. He’d been doing a bunch of press for Onward and had only recently finished up with Cherry, whilst also juggling a few new projects that seemed to be in the pipeline. But you’d asked for one night. And you didn’t expect that to be so hard for him.

In fact, the two of you had been arguing a lot recently. Ever since you’d moved into this flat together, you’d been at it like an old married couple. You hadn’t done the dishes? Argument. He’d forgotten to get the groceries you’d asked for? Argument. You came back late from work and hardly saw him? Argument. Day after day, the blissful couple managed to sink further and further into the stage they never wanted to get to.

“Really? Because on top of work, and travelling and everything, I hardly get to see them anymore,” He comments, running a hand through his hair, “I just thought I’d have one night to enjoy myself.”

“I wanted you to be there Tom,” You sigh, “I was terrified. Do you know how humiliating it is to be talking to investors and have them question why the seat beside me was empty at dinner?”

He swallows and you watch as his Adam’s Apple bobs prominently, “It wouldn’t have made a difference to their opinion of you if I was there or not.”

You scoff, “Right, Tom,” You fold your arms like you’re closing him off from you, “But it would’ve made a difference to me. I wanted my boyfriend to be there to support me. But I guess not.”

That silences him. All of his arguments to defend himself seem to fall flat.

“You have to be at the studio for interviews in an hour, you should probably leave now,” You comment coldly, hardly glancing up from the floorboards as you speak, “I’ll see you later.”

He doesn’t have it in him to find the right words to respond with. Instead, he watches you walk into the room that you shared in this apartment before he finally drops his hope and packs up his things to leave. As he left, all he could think about was how much he’d held you in that room. How many times had the two of you shared a bed? Without him falling asleep on the sofa, or in a hotel halfway across the world. Without an argument meaning you turned your backs to each other after a hasty good night. All he could think of was wrapping his arms around you tightly and promising you that you’d wake up with them still tight around your torso. He’d give you a morning kiss and ask to stay with you like that forever, until life dragged you to your separate callings.

- - - - - -

He’s already been asked if he’s okay four times since he got here - all by different people. They all said that he didn’t seem like himself but he’d dismissed it as fatigue quickly. Chris seemed the most concerned as they both got their microphones connected for the interviews.

“You good, buddy?” Chris frowns, watching Tom like he was a brother to him whilst Tom blanks out.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Tom nods encouragingly, trying to force himself back to normal.

“You know we don’t have to go ahead if you’re not comfortable,” Chris points out, “I’ll do them alone if you-“

“Honestly man, I’m good, let’s go,” Tom shakes it off, heading out through to the first interview of the day.

These days were always pretty long - interview after interview that always seemed to hold similar questions or set ups. But you always managed to brighten them. You’d send him a text to check he’d got there okay, or you’d sent him a voice note to update him on your day so far. Especially recently as the two of you had moved into your apartment. His phone would normally be buzzing a thousand times as you sent him different photos of cute furniture that you’d managed to find. Today, he hadn’t heard anything.

He knew he was in the wrong about this whole situation with you. You were completely right to want him to be there with you. You’d always done the same for him - press events, charity nights, premieres. You’d been by his side for all of his major moments. And he’d managed to slip up on the one night where it mattered. He knew that this would matter more to you than if he’d missed your birthday, an anniversary, even a meal with your family. Your career? That was always a big thing for you, and so was having Tom there to support. So yeah, he’d fucked up. And he’d made things worse by being too proud to admit it.

“And what about you Tom?” The interviewer continues, focusing his attention on the boy that was hardly in the room.

“Oh, I’m sorry, could you repeat the question?”

- - - - - -

“Man, what’s with you today?” Chris frowns, “I don’t wanna be rude but you’re really not with it today.”

Tom sighs and rubs a hand over his face, “Just been a bit of a long day.”

“Well, we’ve got three left,” Chris encourages, “I’ll be my wonderful self and you can sit back and look pretty.”

Tom tries to laugh but it falls flat against the weight on his chest. He wanted to be home. He wanted to find a thousand ways of making this up to you so he could tell you once and for all that he would change and that he was wrong. Every passing moment increased his fears that, this time, he’d be too late.

“Alright so, a lot of fans sent in questions for this interview,” The woman explains, Tom hadn’t been alert enough to catch her name, “Chris, what was your favourite thing about working on this film?”

Chris chats away naturally going through his answer, making some sort of joke that Tom forces a laugh at.

“And Tom, a lot of questions came in for you,” The interviewer smiles, “How have things been for you and (Y/n) now that you guys have moved in together?”

His eyes fall at the mention of your name, trying his best to muster any composure he can find before he looks back up, “Um,” He stops.

It felt like everyone’s eyes were on him. The useless boyfriend acting as though everything had to be fine.

“Things are going great, thank you,” He tries to readjust in his chair and smile, “We’re settling in well.”

“And she’s been very busy with her business recently,” The interviewer persists relentlessly, “You guys must be so busy! How has that worked?”

Tom feels himself fight against the quivering of his bottom lip, “I’m sorry, excuse me.”

“Tom?” Chris speaks up, frowning at the sudden change in demeanour.

“I have to go,” Tom stumbles quickly, “I’m so sorry.”

The interviewer seems practically dumbfounded.

“I’m sorry, excuse me,” Tom tries to de-tangle himself from the microphone and step through the maze of cameras and crew around them.

His assistant watches on in horror - this would be a hard one to explain!

But Tom would deal with all of that later. He gets himself out of the room with rapid breathing as he starts hurrying down the corridors to try and get out of the building. To get home to you.

- - - - - -

He’s practically trembling on the taxi journey all the way back to the flat - he’s convincing himself of every possible negative outcome and telling himself a million times that it’s too late to rectify what he’s done. The thought alone causes adrenaline to surge through him.

When the cab pulls up outside of your building, he rushes to the penthouse like there’s fire behind his feet. But as soon as he reaches the door? All of that comes crashing down. And there’s an odd solemn nature that falls over him that he can’t manage to shift.

There’s soft music playing from inside the flat and he’s cautious as he unlocks the door. It’s quiet and calm but he’s certain that the aftermath of a storm is always worse than the storm itself. You’re always awaiting the next.

Tom walks through the flat calmly until he reaches the spare room. The two of you had used it as a very jumbled place for storage since you’d moved in and never really got round to organising. Clearly today you’d set that task for yourself.

“Hey,” He begins softly and it instantly makes you jump.

You hadn’t heard him over the music.

“What are you doing home?” You frown, checking the time, “I thought it wasn’t supposed to be for at least another hour.”

“Yeah I know,” Tom scratches at the back of his neck, “I left early.”

You frown once again, “What happened? Was everything okay?” You pause the song and focus solely on him.

“Um, yeah, listen (Y/n)...” He pauses, glancing over at the photo album in your hands, “What are you doing?”

“Just looking through some old photos,” You tuck some stray hairs behind your ears and it pains you that it’s not his hand to make the movement, “I got a bit distracted from clearing out.”

“Can I join you?”

You shift around on the floor to make room for him beside you and, as he’d asked, he comes to sit cross legged on the carpet next to you.

“Oh my god!” Tom picks up a photo from the floor, “This was from Halloween, what like 3 years ago?”

“Yeah,” You smile, “The avengers idea!”

Your eyes glance over the group of you - you were Black Widow, Tom was Hawkeye, Tuwaine: the Hulk, Harrison: Captain America, Harry was Iron Man and Sam was Thor. You’d never been so proud of yourselves when the idea actually came off well.

“Why didn’t you go as Spider-Man?” You frown, looking at another photo of the night.

He laughs, “We said we’d go as the original group!”

The laughter settles as you move onto another one, the two of you on your first holiday together. Tom had taken you to Barcelona for your birthday and it had been the most under planned trips ever. The hotel ended up misbooking you so you had to find somewhere last minute, your flights got mixed up too and Tom forgot to book the restaurant that he’d been planning for your actual birthday evening. But it couldn’t have been more perfect. You spent the evenings hand in hand around the streets, you found quaint little corner shops and cafes that sufficed to make the entire weekend something you’d never forget.

“God, I really fucked up with that one!” Tom shakes his head, flicking through a few failed photos that an old couple had taken of you two.

“No, don’t be silly,” You defend, “It was beautiful.”

He smiles lightly and the two of you immerse yourself in more photos, organising them into the years of memories that you’d made together over your relationship. You slot the final photo into an album and set it into the box with the others - one for each year.

“(Y/n) I’m really sorry,” Tom begins, evidently returning back to his initial reasoning for coming home, “I didn’t mean to miss that event, and I know it was completely stupid of me to forget. I should’ve spoken to you and told you what I was doing. And if I’d have remembered, I would’ve been there with you.”

You look down at your hands in your lap.

“I know I can’t blame this on my forgetfulness or just act like this was a silly, forgettable mistake, because it wasn’t. Darling, you’ve always been there for me, every event, every premiere, everything- you’re always by my side. And, on one night where I should’ve been doing the same, I was ignorant and didn’t think of you as much as I should’ve done. As much as I should always do,” He sighs, the frown between his brows increasing, “You don’t deserve to be treated like that. God, if I’d have been there, I would’ve been proud beyond belief of you, of everything you’re achieving. You melt my heart with how unbelievably proud you make me and it kills me that I didn’t show you that when I should’ve done.”

You reach over and squeeze his hand, “Tom, we’ll keep going around in circles if we keep talking about this.”

His mouth parts and it’s like you see his heart sink, “What are you saying?”

“Dance with me,” You mumble, reaching over to play the music through the speakers once again.

It’s ‘Falling’ from Harry Styles’ album that starts playing and it seems awfully bittersweet for the moment. It doesn’t exactly fit but you don’t care.

You pull Toms hands and wrap your arms around him as he does the same to you. He’s uncertain at first but soon relaxes into your body being against him. He holds you close and lets your head hear the calming beat of his heart against his chest. You take in a shaky breath and feel like you’re holding him close enough to mold him back into you, into every part of your body and your mind.

“I love you,” Tom whispers against your hair, dipping his head down to bring the words as close to you as possible.

It feels like the first time in forever where he says those words and they really sink into your veins like they did when they’d first left his lips.

And, somehow, it brings you back to everything that had ever mattered. Something you’d managed to almost lose. Us.

“I don’t want to lose this.”

186 notes · View notes

smileyjaeminies · 4 years

Text

It’s For My Art

Synopsis: An idea pops into Kevin’s mind, so demanding he can’t seem to shake it off. What happens when the words fly past his lips?

Word Count: 3,2 k

Genre: fluff, university au!, artist Kevin x swimmer/special needs teacher reader

Warnings: none

Member: Kevin

A/N: This work was so hard to get right… I really hope I did it justice in the end. I’ve experimented with a new pov in this, I hope you like the change! Enjoy~

Kevin was content with looking at you from afar. He leaned against the wall as Chanhee blabbered on to him and Jacob about one thing or the other. The loud music rang in his ears, in combination with the liquor in his cup. The smell of cigarettes and sweat filled the air and Kevin did his best to brush it off.

He stole glances at you, trying to be sneaky and not stare too hard. You were sitting on the couch with some of your friends, giggling back and forth. Kevin hated the fact that you turned to your friend so much, showing him the view of your strong shoulders and back.

The spaghetti sleeves of your dress did little to conceal your back, topped off with your hair tied in a high ponytail… It was enough to drive him wild. He nodded then and again, pretending to listen to his friend’s conversation as his thoughts became hazy.

Kevin was an art major. Since he was little, his hands were filled with colour as he dug his little hands in whatever paint supplies he could find. Slowly but surely he cultivated his talent, which managed to grant him a position at one of the most prestigious universities in the country.

As an artist, it was easy for him to find beauty in everything. The most mundane things sparked his interest and his inspiration derived from almost anything, to some spilled coffee on his kitchen counter, to the myriad of colours in a sunset.

He recalled now seeing you for the first time only a week ago, in the grass outside the main building on your campus. Contrary to popular belief, almost no one sat on the grass at your campus, and yet there you were, lying on your stomach, feet up in the air, your nose buried inside a book and earplugs hanging from your ears.

You were just perfect. Kevin had been looking for someone just like you, broad shoulders and back for the longest time for one of his long-term projects. He had tried some of his friends, but until then, it had taken too much convincing and too feeble a result for him to be satisfied.

The past week, he couldn’t take you off his mind. The anonymous girl from uni, whose broad shoulders made his inspiration run wild. And now that you were standing only a few feet away from him, his mind was hazy with thoughts of you.

“I’m getting another drink” he announced to his friends, earning an eager nod from Jacob.

As he made his way to the kitchen, he scoured the rows of different bottles for something he recognized. His eyes landed upon a brand of tequila he knew he liked, so he reached for it. At that moment, another hand made its way on top of the bottle, holding a tight grip on the neck.

Kevin’s eyes made yours across the kitchen island, making him gasp. You giggled at his unexpected reaction, cocking your head to one side in confusion.

“Want one?” you asked him.

“Yes” he simply answered, nodding his head for good measure.

“Strong or easy? Can you handle your alcohol, sweetie?” you asked him again.

“Sure” he answered as you poured both your drinks.

“Ask her, you idiot” his brain was screaming at him. Yet he remained silent, accepting the cup you offered him while muttering a small thank you.

“No problem, sweetie. Have fun!” you encouraged him, before turning right on your heels and walking out.

“Fucking hell” he muttered to himself as he assumed his place with Jacob and Chanhee.

Only this time, your eyes were on him. The encouraging smile on your lips made him shuffle in his spot, trying to weasel himself back in his friends’ conversation and ignore your stare.

Some rounds of shots later, Kevin could definitely feel the effect of the alcohol running in his veins.

“I’m just going to ask. She can always say no. It’s no big deal. I’ll just re-take the damn class” he was telling his friends.

“Do you really think this is the time and place to ask her? She could say no just because she gets the wrong idea. Why don’t you-” Chanhee was trying to reason with him, when Kevin caught you making your way to the kitchen.

“I’m doing it now. Wish me luck” he said over his shoulder, already walking towards the kitchen.

A few shoves and a shower of sorry’s later, he was standing near you once again. After a deep breath, he mustered up the courage to lightly poke you and introduce himself. You turned around, your eyes shining in recognition once they fell on him.

“Hi, sweetie” you told him.

“Hi, I’m Kevin” he announced.

You giggled, nodding your head.

“Do you want me to fix you another drink, Kevin?” You asked.

“No, thank you” he replied.

“Well then, I’ll be going” you said, moving past him.

Kevin acted quickly, afraid that he was going to lose you.

“Can I paint your back?” the words flew past his lips before he knew it.

You turned around, a curious look on your face when you regarded him. At least it wasn’t horrified or disgusted.

“What?” you asked, your voice getting a little bit high pitched.

“It’s not a weird thing I promise! I- I’m an art major and we’re doing this project were we have to paint something on anything but a canvas and I was trying out painting on people’s backs and I think yours would work perfect with my theme so I thought, hey, she’ll either think I’m a fucking weirdo or she’ll like the idea and help me with a fun project” Kevin rambled, the words flowing out of him in a hurry to make you understand.

You stayed quiet, looking at him and he only hoped you were considering his proposal.

“A project. And you want to paint… On my back?” you ask, your head falling on one side.

“Yes.” Kevin was quick to answer you.

You took a few more moments to think, before you started shaking your head. Kevin’s face fell as he felt the rejection approaching. His mind was racing, trying to figure out a way to get to you.

“Look, Kevin, was it? I’m too drunk for this right now. Let me… Think about it after my hangover.” You proposed.

“Yes! Yes, take all the time you need, of course” Kevin was quick to comply.

You reached inside the pocket of your jeans, retrieving your cell phone and handing it to him.

“Put your phone in there. Imma text you” you said and Kevin did as he was told.

“‘Weird back guy’? Wow, you hardly give yourself enough credit” you joked.

“Well, I thought that Kevin would be a little too vague. Maybe ‘Weird back guy’ is going to ring a bell” he said with a light laugh.

You laughed along with him as you both walked back out to the living room.

“You’re decent… For a weird back guy I met at a party.” You said.

“I’ll take it as a compliment. Just text me whenever, okay?” he asked.

“Sure thing, sweetie” you said, rejoining your friends.

------------------------------------------------------------

Days flowed by as classes and life managed to distract Kevin from longingly looking at his phone. He was sat on his desk, an array of materials and pieces of paper surrounding him, classical music flowing through his speaker to keep him focused as his hands worked ceaselessly.

Projects were piling up and he had to get his portfolio ready for the professors to look through. In a streak of creativity, he was pouring out piece after piece, not bothering to inspect them for mistakes, only rushing to work on the next one.

The dinging of his phone pulled him out of his trance. He completed some finishing touches to his drawing, before cleaning his hands and reaching for his phone.

Unknown

Hey Kevin! It’s Y/N, you know, from the party?

Kevin’s heart danced in his chest as he read the message. Finally, you had texted him! Pushing his thoughts on the back of his mind, he texted you back.

Kevin’s phone

Of course I remember you! I’m so glad you reached out, and finally I know your name haha

Y/N

Omg that’s so embarrassing I never introduced myself-

Sorry about that, I guess I was too out of it lol

Kevin’s phone

Don’t sweat it, I’m just glad you reached out at all

Y/N

So about that… I did some thinking and then I grew tired of doing it so now I’m saying fuck it

I’m in

Kevin almost screamed in delight reading the last text. A smile spread on his face as his thoughts were swarmed with things he could draw. Inspiration flowed like a river, drowning his thoughts and making his head ache. He felt jittery, his leg bouncing up and down with excitement.

Realizing he still hadn’t answered your text, his fingers worked fast on the keyboard.

Kevin’s phone

That’s amazing to hear! I’m so glad you’ll help, I was so ready to just drop everything and hide

Y/N

I’m glad I’m doing this too! It’s going to be fun, right?

Kevin’s phone

Most definitely! I’ll try not to bore you out of your mind lol

When are you free? We can do this in my place since I have all my supplies and whatnot

Y/N

Sure thing! Um, I’m free all afternoon Thursday, is that okay?

After figuring out a few technical things, like the exact time and giving you directions to his dorm room, Kevin threw his phone on his bed. Giddy with excitement he bounced on his chair as he went through his supplies, making sure he had all the colours he needed.

This is really happening, huh, he thought to himself as the smile on his lips didn’t seem to falter.

------------------------------------------

Thursday afternoon came along sooner than Kevin would have liked. He did everything in his power to clean his dorm room, efficiently kicking Jacob out to give you both some privacy.

Right on time, a knock on his door alerted Kevin of your arrival. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself as he opened the door for you. You smiled at him and greeted him politely. Kevin was torn between hugging you and merely sharking your hand, when you stepped forward, wrapping your hands around his torso and letting yourself in.

You leisurely sat down on his bed as if you owned the place, striking up a pleasant conversation with him. After talking to you for a while, he decided to finally take the initiative.

“If you don’t mind, I think we should get started soon or I’ll lose all the natural light” he told you.

Your eyes widened for a mere second, so fast he almost missed it. You quickly composed yourself, not saying anything, only nodding at his request.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom, leave you some time to change. Call for me when you’re ready, okay?” he asked.

“Okay” you said, but from the tone of your voice he could tell you’re your demeanor was slowly changing.

“Hey, Y/N, at any point you want me to stop, just say the word. It’s okay, I promise. There’s no point in doing this if you don’t want to.” He tried to reassure you.

A small smile made its way to your lips as you whispered a thank you. Kevin only nodded, getting in the bathroom and closing the door behind him. He closed his eyes, resting his head on the door as a million pictures rushed behind his eyelids.

A certain picture kept resurfacing, a cloudy night sky, with some stars still shining through. He knew that was what he was going to be painting today. He only prayed that it would be good enough for his professor.

“I’m ready now” your voice called from the other room.

Kevin made straight for his painting supplies, his hands itching to prepare the colours he needed. From the corner of his eye, he saw you lying down on his bed, your top laying neatly folded a few inches away from your head.

“Do you need another pillow? Are you comfortable enough?” he asked.

“I think I’m okay. I just don’t know what to do with my hands” you said with a laugh.

“Don’t worry about it, just try not to fold them if that’s okay” he requested.

A nod came from you as Kevin finished preparing his colours. The atmosphere was tense as he took a stool to sit next to you, hovering over your body.

“So… Music?” he asked

“What about it?” you asked him in return.

“Do you want to play some? I think I’d bore you too much with the classical music I use when I paint” he said.

“Okay… Well, there’s been one album I’ve been dying to listen to” you said and Kevin hummed.

He showed you how to connect your phone to the speaker and was very surprised when you played one of his favourite band’s new album.

“That’s literally one of my favourite bands” he confessed.

“Really? That’s so awesome! I only discovered them a few years ago… They’re too good” you said.

“They really are” Kevin admitted.

He timidly placed his brush on your body, making you shiver. He chuckled at your reaction, while you let out an awkward laugh.

“Probably should’ve said something. Sorry” he apologized.

“It’s okay” you mumbled.

“So, how did you get to know them again?” he asked you.

The conversation flowed easily from there on as you seemed to relax more and more under his fingers. He worked while you two talked, allowing his mind to roam free as his hands moved almost without him noticing.

Sometime later, the album had finished playing and a calm silence had overtaken the room. Kevin’s eyebrows were scrunched together as he placed the finishing touches on his work. Taking a step back he admired his work, until his eyes fell on your face.

You had fallen asleep somewhere in between, your mouth now hanging open as you breathed evenly. Kevin smiled lightly, as he shook his head. He really had bored you to sleep.

Taking his camera, he stood on top of your body to take some pictures of the painting on your back. However, his attention was brought to your soft features, your arm hanging down from the bed, palm outstretched, the shapes your hair outlined as they danced over the pillow, the lines of your nose and mouth.

The clicking of his camera came and went and he could already imagine the way he could edit those later. He tried not to show your features too much, careful not to give away your identity, although he could tell he could hardly show these pictures to anyone but you.

Putting his camera back in its case, a sigh escaped his lips. He looked back in all he had learned about you today. You were studying to be a special needs teacher, hoping to help children through your work. You had scored a scholarship through swimming, explaining your broad shoulders and strong back. You lived out of campus in a small apartment with your best friend. Your friends were real fun to be around and you loved hanging out with them, but sometimes you found that they were moving too fast for you.

You liked a lot of the same bands and pretty much listened to the same music. You hanged out at your apartment most of the time, savoring the peace and quiet and opting out from clubs, finding that house parties, quite like the one you met at, were more your style. You favored books over movies and absolutely despised modern art. You also hated poetry, one of your professors and mint chocolate ice cream.

He realized then, he had gotten so much information just from talking to you on and off as he worked. He couldn’t even imagine how sitting down to actually talk to you would be.

At that moment, Kevin realized he really wanted to see you again, to get to know you better and he would make sure that would happen.

He sat in the corner of his bed, placing a hand on your shoulder and shaking you gently. He called your name, but you didn’t seem to stir. Without thinking much of it, he run his hand through your hair in a soothing manner and tried calling your name again.

This time, you did stir, your eyes opening with effort. A small groan escaped you as Kevin continued running his fingers through your hair. He smiled down at you, not even bothering to hide it.

“Sorry to wake you, I just thought you might have to leave or something” he told you.

You stirred, turning to lay on your back and Kevin immediately looked away from your topless form. From the corner of his eye he saw you rubbing your eyes sleepily, humming as an answer to his words.

“I don’t have anything to do actually, I cleared my afternoon just for you” you said with a laugh.

“Oh, I’m honored” he told you, eyes still stuck on the opposite wall.

“Kevin” you called him, sitting up.

“Yeah?” he asked.

Your hand was on his chin, your touch so light it felt like he almost dreamt it.

“I want you to look at me” you whispered, turning his head for your eyes to lock.

His eyes landed on yours and he was shocked to find you looking at him with hooded eyes. His gaze fell to your lips and felt himself take in a sharp breath.

“I am looking at you” he said, his eyes finding yours again.

Like magnets, you moved at the same time, finding each other somewhere in between the distance that was separating you. Your lips found each other in an experimental and passionate kiss, as Kevin’s hands buried themselves in your hair.

Leaving your lips, he peppered kisses all across your face, before moving to your jaw and neck. Not yet satisfied, his lips found yours again, as the kiss only deepened.

Breaking away, you moved backwards a bit, tracing his cheek with your hand. He tried reading your eyes and he could clearly see that you were thinking about something, although he wasn’t sure what.

“What is it?” he asked you in a whisper.

“Nothing. I’m just glad I came” you told him with a smile, placing a small peck on his nose.

Without giving him a chance to say anything in return, you get up from his bed, getting your things and disappearing in his bathroom. Kevin hears the shower being turned on, which snaps him back into reality.

As he finishes packing up his supplies and the spare sheet he had used for you to lay on, now filled with colour, you emerge from the bathroom.

“Hey” you greet him with a smile.

“Hey” he says as he smiles back at you.

“So I’m craving some Chinese food. Care to join?” you ask him.

The smile on Kevin’s face only grows as he gets on his feet, walking up to you. He holds your hand in his before saying,

“What are we waiting for?”

#deobinet #the boyz net #kpop #kpop scenarios #the boyz #tbz #tbz kevin #the boyz kevin #kevin #kevin moon #kevin moon fluff #kevin fluff #fluff #the boyz fluff #university au #alex #alex writes

41 notes · View notes

wheresmynaya · 4 years

Text

Two Ghosts Ch. 27 | Brittana

I must’ve been in a Soft!Riz mood when writing this so enjoy that.

Also available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & below the cut!

Everyone – mainly Quinn – said she wouldn’t last a day, but here she is a whole week later still going strong! Well technically, she’s starting to slowly lose her mind but with all things considered, she thinks lasting this long without spontaneously booking a flight to San Francisco is actually pretty good! She has done well by keeping her mind busy and revisiting some old hobbies.

Surprisingly, one of those hobbies involves the old piano she inherited from her Abuelo that’s been left untouched for months now. She kept it and the record player he left to her here at Maribel’s until she was ready to settle down somewhere permanent and move them properly but she hasn’t felt like settling down anywhere yet. It felt weird to do it alone, but things are changing now that she has found Brittany again.

It’s a surprise she even remembers how to play the thing, but there’s something about it that makes her feel a little closer to her Abuelo. Maybe it’s the holiday season and Brittany’s absence and the loneliness settling in, but Santana finds herself reminiscing a lot lately.

As a little girl, she use to sit on this very bench next to her Abuelo and watch him play. Always so captivated by him and the way his fingers danced along the keys so effortlessly, Santana would watch with a child-like curiosity and try to mimic his movements. He would smile proudly and encourage her to sing along, even when she didn’t know how to control her voice just yet.

They were quite the pair and sometimes Santana thinks that maybe she got her musical genes from him too. He cultivated her passion for music without even trying. When he introduced her to the glorious sounds of Fleetwood Mac, it was like an awakening. She loved her Abuelo dearly; he would always be first in line to congratulate her after a performance, a giant bouquet of flowers in hand and a proud smile on his face.

Santana finds herself wishing her Abuela could look at her like that again before she shoves the thought away. She doesn’t want to think about her, about someone so quick to judge. Her Abuelo only met Brittany in passing once the night Santana performed Valerie, but Santana’s convinced he would’ve loved her if there was more time to get to know her.

He would’ve loved that Santana was loved by Brittany too.

It’s that thought that causes a tear to roll down her cheek. With everything that happened with her Abuela and her dad, Santana just wishes her Abuelo was still around. She just needs one other person from her family to be happy for her and what she has found in Brittany, because that’s what family is supposed to do. They’re supposed to love you and celebrate with you and when she marries Brittany one day, she doesn’t want Maribel to sit alone at the Lopez table.

If her Abuelo was still around, he would make sure Maribel wasn’t alone. Santana is certain of that.

She misses him and a part of her will always regret not visiting more before his health started to turn. She regrets not talking to him about her feelings for Brittany before –

Santana wipes away another tear and continues to play. She can almost hear his voice telling her how beautiful she sounds and that she should play for him more often.

She thinks now is the perfect time to do just that.

It’s a couple hours later and Santana has maxed out on watching reality tv. She has now ventured into the Hallmark movie territory which is nothing but straight people doing holiday things and all the sappy, cheesy love stories that have been set to Christmas music play on all of Santana’s feelings.

Like if she wasn’t a little emotional before, she is now. But like, don’t tell anyone.

She just really misses Brittany, okay? They’ve done a pretty good job of keeping in touch through phone calls and texts and the occasional video chat, but Santana has been trying to limit how often they talk. She doesn’t want to intrude on the time Brittany is meant to be spending with her family, but it gets hard sometimes. Especially when she keeps subjecting herself to watching hetero couples fall in love over and over again.

Honestly, it’s so cringe-worthy but she can’t take her eyes off of the screen. Though, she’s certain of one thing: her and Brittany’s love story is so much better than the crap Hallmark churns out!

Santana’s already camped out on the couch with a cozy blanket and she’s having an entire carton of coffee ice cream for lunch while she watches re-runs of Chopped: The Holiday Edition. She’s really into it to be honest – it’s way better than A Christmas Prince – and even starts shouting at the tv when a chef forgets to include a basket ingredient.

“See? Didn’t I say?” Santana shakes her head after another spoonful of ice cream. She listens as Alex Guarnaschelli points out a contestant’s technical error then starts to nod along with her, “Exactly, Alex, I completely agree with you. Marcus is such a dumbass for that.”

Another ten minutes go by and it’s time for tasting. Santana eagerly awaits the judge’s criticism, it’s her favorite part of the whole show. Sometimes she thinks she could do this one day for a living – she wasn’t gifted with impeccable wit for nothing – but she’s sure she’d probably get fired pretty quickly for making a contestant cry.

Aarón Sánchez starts to complain about lack of spice and Santana shakes her head disappointedly, “You should’ve used the gingerbread in the stuffing like I told you. Maybe it would’ve helped out your bland ass dish! Pathetic. Where did you even go to culinary school?”

“Like you even cook,” Quinn smirks which causes Santana to nearly jump out of her blanket burrito.

“What the fuck, Q? How’d you get in here?” Santana gasps at the sight of Quinn dressed in her soft grey peacoat standing near the front door.

“The door was wide open?” Quinn quirked her brow as she untied her scarf, “I literally said ‘Hey Santana!’ did you really not hear me?”

Santana tried to backtrack but ended up shaking her head, “Does it look like I heard you? Jesus…can’t just roll up on a girl during a Chopped marathon. Have you no respect?”

“A what marathon?” Quinn glances at the tv then to Santana’s set up on the couch and frowns, “Uh…when’s the last time you’ve left the house?”

Santana ponders, “How long has it been since Britt’s left?”

“Oh my God...” Quinn laughs, “Seriously?”

Santana rolls her eyes, “No. I went out to get this ice cream.”

Quinn shakes her head as she rounds the couch to swipe the remote off the coffee table and turns off the tv.

“Excuse me, I was watching that!” Santana huffs, “I needz to know if Cecile makes it to the next round, she’s the underdog!”

“Get up, we’re going out.” Quinn says with no room for argument, but Santana tries anyway.

“I don’t feel like going out, hence the pjs and ice cream.”

“Right,” Quinn smirks, “And this is why Brittany wanted me to check up on you.”

Santana rounds on her, “She did not.”

“She totally did,” Quinn assures her, “So go get dressed, we’re going out. I know just what you need.”

Santana snorted, “I highly doubt that.”

Quinn rolled her eyes and ripped the blankets from Santana, “Move it, Lopez. I don’t have all day.”

Santana let out a heavy sigh and thrust her carton of ice cream into Quinn’s hands before stomping up the stairs to her room. Through the echo of the staircase, Santana yelled out, “You suck!”

“Drama Queen!” Quinn smirked then she stole a spoonful of ice cream.

“I’m…oddly impressed,” Santana comments as she and Quinn sit on a bench in front of Old Navy with their lattes in hand. They had been people-watching for awhile now, alternating with what shops they wanted to observe.

It was Christmas Eve in Lima and people were stressed the fuck out.

It was great.

“Yeah, I thought you’d like this,” Quinn says before taking a sip, “You love watching people suffer.”

“In theory,” Santana grins. They had seen about three instances now where a fight nearly broke out over something ridiculous like a scarf or the last cable knit sweater that was on sale. Santana was loving every minute of it but she didn’t want the compliment to boost Quinn’s ego.

“Uh-oh, check that one out,” Quinn nods over to another argument breaking out.

“This is awesome,” Santana smirks, “I wouldn’t fight over anything Old Navy has to offer, but if it were like Gucci or Prada then I could understand. I’d cut a bitch for some Burberry.”

“Of course you would,” Quinn chuckles and they knock their coffee cups together in one swift motion. They sit there captivated by all the action for a moment longer before Quinn turns to Santana, “So how are you holding up while Britt’s away?”

Santana’s smile falters slightly before she shrugs, “It’s hard and it brings back some shitty memories of when we did long distance once, but I’m okay. We’re okay. We talk often so it’s fine.”

“That’s good. She’ll be back soon enough.”

“Yeah, it’s only temporary,” Santana agrees, “I don’t want to make it about me. I know she has missed being near her family so I’m just keeping busy.”

Quinn just nods and they go back to watching the drama unfold before them.

It totally beats sitting on the couch and watching it through a tv screen, that’s for sure! And although Brittany can’t be here for this, Quinn isn’t so bad to be around. In fact, it’s kind of nice to hang out with her. Maribel’s been so busy with work lately, Santana’s had to spend a lot of time alone and we’ve seen what happens when she’s left alone with her thoughts for too long.

“Oh look who it is!” Quinn jabs her pointy elbow into Santana’s bicep.

“Ow! Watch where you shove that thing,” Santana grumbles and looks to the direction of where Quinn’s pointing. Her eyes widen at a familiar face and watch as the blonde makes his way over to the pretzel stand. Santana almost forgot how much of a small town Lima was and how it’s almost impossible to go out anywhere without running into someone you know.

“Is this weird? Do you want to leave?” Quinn asks when Santana doesn’t say anything more.

She shakes her head, “No, it’s okay. He’s Britt’s best friend.”

Just as she said that, another familiar face joins his side and her jaw drops.

“Is that,” Quinn gasps and she’s on her feet before she’s finished her sentence.

Santana scrambles after, also happily surprised by the other Glee Club alumni.

“Mercedes!” Quinn squeals and it makes her and Sam jump at the sound, but soon their faces fill with delight as they see who it is.

“Quinn! Hey girl!” Mercedes beams and pulls her into a tight hug, “Is that Satan with you too?”

Santana smirks, “Hey ‘Cedes.” And then she’s pulled into a bone-crushing hug along with Quinn. It’s nice, she secretly kind of likes hugs like these.

“Hey guys,” Sam chuckles as he holds a pretzel in each hand, “I’d get in on that group hug too but…pretzels.”

For some reason that makes Santana laugh and she’s reminded of a time before everything happened where she actually didn’t mind Sam too much. Afterall, they sort of dated once but it was purely to hide the fact that she was brokenhearted. He was a dork and a nerd but he was alright in her book for the most part. She also remembers the time he and Quinn dated and it makes her smirk, to think she was the reason they broke up in the first place. Yikes!

They’re all just funny memories now though.

“Hey Sam,” Santana greets as Mercedes finally pulls away.

“Sorry! Hi Sam,” Quinn waves too before looking to them both, “What are you guys doing here? Last minute shopping?”

“Yeah,” Mercedes’ rolls her eyes, “Someone didn’t get his own mother a gift yet so we’ve had to brave the crowds which is exactly how I want to spend my Christmas Eve.”

“Hey,” Sam frowned, “How am I supposed to figure out what to get a woman that deserves everything? It’s hard.”

“Trouty has a point,” Santana nods and thinks about her own gift for her mother. It’s not nearly enough for what she actually deserves but she hopes she’ll like it anyway.

“I’m just messing with you,” Mercedes teases and presses a kiss to his cheek which makes Santana and Quinn’s brows rise.

They didn’t know they were a thing still, it kind of makes Santana swell with pride. She always liked those two together and genuinely hoped that they’d work it out at some point. Mercedes was her Troubletones home girl and Santana remembered how she use to light up around him.

She’d never admit it aloud, but it was kind of cute or whatever.

“Is Brittany with you somewhere too?” Mercedes asks Santana while Quinn talks to Sam about some jewelry store sale that he might find luck in.

“No, she’s visiting her family in San Francisco for the holidays this year,” Santana tells her with a shrug.

Mercedes looks surprised, “And you didn’t go with? I’m shocked.”

Santana chuckles at that and wonders if Mercedes thinks she and Brittany have been together all this time. She can’t remember the last time she even spoke to Mercedes, maybe the last time she was back in Lima for Thanksgiving? She isn’t sure, maybe Sam told her something. Either way, she likes the fact that Mercedes still thinks they’re joined at the hip.

“Couldn’t leave my mom alone for Christmas,” Santana replies and quickly changes the subject, “How about you? Have you been living here this whole time or are you just visiting?”

Mercedes sends her a look of disbelief, “Girl no, I’m only here visiting my family and my man. L.A. is my home now. I’ve been trying to get Sam to move out there with me for awhile but it really is a different pace out there.”

“That’s awesome,” Santana says and she’s genuinely happy for her, “You know, Nationals are in L.A. this year. Might see you around!”

“Nationals? You take over the Glee Club?” Mercedes asks.

“No way, Mr. Schue is still all over that,” Santana laughs, “Britt, Quinn and I coach the Cheerios now. It’s a long story.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Mercedes nods, “Sam did mention something about it. I couldn’t make it to Sue’s funeral. How are you liking it? The coaching thing? Make anyone cry yet?”

“Maybe,” Santana smirks devilishly, “You know me.”

“Unfortunately I do,” Mercedes chuckles, “Well, when you guys make it to L.A. let me know! I’ll show you around or something.”

“Deal!” Santana grins before Quinn’s interjecting about scheduling a day to catch up before Mercedes heads home. Of all the people that Santana could possibly run into at the Lima Mall, she’s happy that it was Mercedes and Sam. Well, mostly Mercedes.

“So Trouty, hitting up a jewelry store for your mom?” Santana asks once Quinn and Mercedes get to talking about some church service they want to attend together. Sam looks a little surprised that Santana’s making small talk with him, but he just wipes away the pretzel salt with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, Quinn was telling me about it. I hadn’t even thought about jewelry,” Sam answers, “How about you? Got all your shopping done already?”

Santana nods, “My list of people I needed to shop for was pretty short. Just needed to get things for my mom, Q and Britt.”

“Awh, you got me a present?” Quinn teases and reaches around Mercedes to poke at Santana’s shoulder.

“Yeah so you better have gotten me one too,” Santana quips making Sam and Mercedes chuckle.

“Well, we better get going. Don’t want be here when all hell breaks loose,” Mercedes says and hooks her arm with Sam’s.

They all exchange hugs again and bid each other a Merry Christmas. Santana even hugs Sam in the end which she’s sure would make Brittany so proud if she was around to see it. She’s just chalking it up to the Christmas Spirit though.

“I can’t believe they’re still together!” Quinn gasps once they’re far enough from the couple, “I wonder if Britt has known this whole time and just didn’t tell us?”

“Look, probably…she’s sneaky like that,” Santana replies, a small smile creeping up at the mention of her name, “She’d probably say well you guys didn’t ask so…”

“Ugh, she so would!” Quinn groans playfully.

They spend another hour or so people-watching before Quinn drops Santana home again and tells her she’ll be checking up on her in a few days.

“Yeah okay, whatever,” Santana brushes her off but then they both go in for a hug, “Merry Christmas, Q.”

“Merry Christmas, Santana,” Quinn says with a pat on her back before Santana heads inside.

She’s surprised to see Maribel home relatively early and calls out to her, “Hey Mami!”

“Hi mija!” Maribel greets and her voice is coming from the kitchen. Santana follows after it and finds a collection of various Chinese takeout boxes.

Santana is in awe, “Woah, did you order everything on the menu?”

“We have to keep our tradition alive, right?” Maribel laughs.

“Oh yeah!” Santana beams and they both dive in and pile their plates high before wandering into the living room to watch Love, Actually. It’s something that they usually do when Maribel visits Santana in New York, but she’s glad that the tradition has carried over to Lima too. It’s something that’s just for them and Santana sits contently through the movie with her mom at her side.

Maribel had said goodnight awhile ago, but Santana decided to finish the movie in the living room while she awaited Brittany’s nightly phone call. She doesn’t realize she has fallen asleep on the couch until she feels something vibrating at her side. When she blinks her tired eyes open, she finds the fleece throw draped over her and the tv turned low. The Christmas tree lights cast a warm glow around the room and she feels so comfy cozy that Santana almost forgets why she woke up in the first place.

She reaches for her phone tucked under her hip and quickly swipes the screen before the call goes to voicemail.

“Hey Britt,” Santana chuckles with her voice a little raspy from just waking up.

“Hi Santana,” Brittany’s cheery voice greets down the line. There’s a soft gasp, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

Santana stretches and cranes her neck back to rest against the decorative pillow, “No, I was just resting my eyes.”

“Are you sure? I can call back in the morning?”

Santana smiles softly, “Talk to me. How was your day?”

“Well, my day…it was so much fun. I got to hang out with my cousins – who aren’t as mean as when we were younger – and we helped my grandma bake cookies for tomorrow,” Brittany tells her excitedly, “Did you see the pictures I sent?”

Santana smiles and remembers Brittany’s text she received while she was out with Quinn. It was a picture of a very colorful pair of gingerbread women that she was holding up proudly by either side of her head, a great big smile rounding out the adorableness.

“Yeah I saw it,” Santana tells her, “It was very cute. Sounds like you’re having a great time over there.”

“Yeah, but it’s not all that great since you’re not here too,” Brittany answers without missing a beat, “How about your day? Did…you have any visitors?”

“Ah so you did enlist Quinn to kidnap me,” Santana smirks.

“What? No. Wait, did she kidnap you because that’s not what I asked her to do?”

Santana laughs at that, “No she didn’t, but she did interrupt my Chopped marathon. I never did find out who won the dessert round…” She could hear Brittany snort as she continues, “But it wasn’t so bad hanging out with her. We actually ran into Sam and Mercedes at the mall.”

“No way! I thought Mercedes was only going to be in Lima for New Years?”

“Well I didn’t know she was going to be in Lima at all,” Santana jokes, “Have you known they’ve been dating this whole time?”

“I wouldn’t say whole time…they’re on and off. You know how tough long distance is, but they always end up back together.”

Santana ponders her words, “Huh, sounds familiar. Can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me all this time.”

Brittany chuckles, “Honestly I didn’t think you’d care, but I don’t want to talk about them. What are you doing right now?”

Santana notices a shift in Brittany’s tone – something mischievous – and it makes Santana sit up a little straighter, “Uhh…I’m just lying on the couch watching tv.”

“Right…” Brittany drawls out and suddenly Santana’s intrigued to see where this goes because she might have an idea, “Same couch we made out on on Thanksgiving?”

Santana’s suspicions are confirmed when she hears that, “We’ve made out many times on this couch, Britt, not just Thanksgiving.”

“Mmm, and we’ve done a lot more than make out there too.”

Santana feels a flush cover her cheeks at the memory but she presses further, “You should see what I’ve got on right now too.”

She thinks she can hear Brittany audibly gulp which is hilarious because in reality, she’s just dressed in leggings and Brittany’s sweater from Homecoming. It’s nothing too risqué, but who is she if she doesn’t play along and paint Britt a lovely picture?

Brittany’s voice is husky when she says, “Tell me.”

“I don’t know, Britt, Santa’s coming to town any minute now,” Santana teases, loving how easy it is for them to turn their conversations flirtatious, “Wouldn’t want to get a free show and risk missing out on my presents. I’ve been a very good girl this year.”

“Fuck a present, I can give you something better.”

Santana has to bite her lip to keep from snorting at the sound of Brittany cursing. It’s rare but when it happens, it’s the greatest thing ever because Britt kind of has a potty mouth during certain situations.

It��s kind of hot actually.

“Hmm…I’ll hold you to that, Britt-Britt,” Santana says just as the grandfather clock chimes from the other room, signaling midnight. At least, for Santana it is. Brittany still has a few more hours to go with the time difference.

“It’s officially Christmas!” Brittany cheers excitedly – the huskiness completely gone – and she’s so loud about it that it nearly deafens Santana. The lusty tone has been replaced with a child-like delight as a familiar ringtone replaces static.

When Santana looks down at her phone, she sees Brittany requesting a video call. She swipes at it and soon her screen is filled with a rosy-cheeked Brittany wearing an elf hat.

“Merry Christmas!” Brittany sings accompanied with this cute shoulder shimmy that would put Kurt Hummel to shame. She’s all kinds of adorable and Santana really can’t help but feel smitten.

“Merry Christmas!” Santana replies breathlessly and watches as Brittany’s eyes scan her up and down. She tilts her head at the way Brittany is not-so-subtly checking her out and asks, “Uhm, can I help you?”

“You’re wearing my sweater again,” Brittany points out through a smirk, “Not as risky as what I was imagining you wearing, but I’m not mad at it. You’re cute.”

“Do I even want to know what you were imagining?” Santana asks and watches Brittany wiggle her brows.

“Let’s just say it didn’t involve a sweater…or any clothing for that matter.”

“You’re a horny mess,” Santana giggles.

“Can you blame me?” Brittany jokes, “My girlfriend is hot and all I want for Christmas is to put my – ”

“Hey, don’t start something you can’t finish,” Santana cuts in and suddenly her eyes feel heavy again.

“You’re right. You look tired,” Brittany comments through a soft smile, “You should head up to bed.”

“I will, just wanted to talk to you for a bit more before I did. I’ve missed you today,” Santana says shyly as she picks at the fabric of the blanket across her lap, “Well, I’ve missed you everyday but a little more so today.”

“Awh, look at you,” Brittany coos and Santana’s cheeks instantly flush.

“I’ve been playing the piano again,” Santana tells her then suddenly she feels a kind of sadness, “It reminds me of things and makes me miss people.”

She knows she’s being really vague but she also knows Brittany gets it.

“Oh honey,” Brittany says tenderly and there’s this apologetic smile on her face, “I’ll be home before you know it, only one more week left now. Maybe you can play something for me?”

Santana melts at the sound of home and wonders if Brittany considers that to be Lima or her or both. It’s a silly thought because she thinks she knows the answer to that already. It’s just nice to hear her say it out loud and it makes Santana rethink who or where she considers home too.

“Maybe I will,” Santana beams but just as she was about to continue, a yawn escapes her.

“San, go to bed…” Brittany says and she’s giving her this cross between a smile and a pout so of course Santana has to listen.

She rubs at her eye and nods, “Yeah okay, I’m going. You think…we can stay on the phone tonight?”

There’s something familiar about the request and it seems like they both pick up on it because Brittany nods and soon she’s up too. A moment later and they’re both doing their nightly routine together.

It’s something they use to do when they were doing long distance just to make them feel a little closer together although it was never as good as the real thing. Back then, Santana hated that feeling but now she doesn’t mind it so much. She knows it’s only temporary and soon Brittany will be here in person trying to leave toothpaste-coated kisses on her cheek again.

A moment later, Santana is tucked away in bed with her phone propped up next to her. She watches Brittany through half-lidded eyes as she tells her more about the day she has had with her family. There’s this warmth or softness or something that surrounds Santana while she listens to Brittany gush over her cousin’s two year old daughter. Santana’s really biting her cheek, hoping nothing slips out like it did with Maribel but imagining Brittany with this toddler does something to Santana’s fluttery insides.

She’s blaming the lack of sleep for this one.

“You should’ve seen it, San. She was so cute! Sprinkles were going everywhere,” Brittany giggles, “Then I had to clean up after her which was a little less exciting, but I didn’t mind. It was her first time decorating cookies, it was bound to get messy.”

“Sounds like fun,” Santana replies. She’s shocked that she’s managed to say just that although her head fills with images of what their family would look like a little ways down the line. She imagines a little blonde with Santana’s complexion and Brittany’s smile toddling around their living room. She imagines coming home from work to that same little blonde head curled up at Brittany’s side as they nap on the couch. She imagines the first words and first steps and she realizes something: she can’t wait to have a family with Brittany.

She also realizes that she’s about to be caught in her daydreaming.

“What are you smiling about over there?” Brittany asks, her smile matching Santana’s

Santana feels like a deer caught in the headlights, but she manages recover before her truth comes tumbling out on her again. Letting her thoughts on marriage slip out is one thing, but talking about a family? Way too soon, Lopez!

“Just thinking about how cute you would’ve looked decorating cookies,” Santana says, “There’s this face you pull when you’re concentrating really hard…just adorable.”

Brittany rolls her eyes as she smiles bashfully, “I don’t know how anyone thinks you’re so big and bad when you’re actually the gushiest and mushiest person I know.”

“You take that back,” Santana narrows her eyes playfully. She ends softening a moment later, “You bring it out of me, I can’t help myself around you.”

“I know,” Brittany replies as she tucks her hand under her pillow, mirroring Santana’s position, “It’s my favorite thing.”

Santana sighs and snuggles deep against her pillow as their conversation lulls. She’s really feeling the heaviness in her eyelids now, but she finds herself trying to fight to stay awake. She just wants to be present and listen to any and every story Brittany has to tell, she doesn’t want to miss anything.

“You wanna know something?” Brittany whispers a bit later and the sudden sound of her voice has Santana struggling to look up. She finds Brittany’s eyes closed and if she didn’t know any better, she would’ve assumed she had fallen asleep already.

Santana’s not sure she’s coherent enough herself to form actual words, so she just hums out in response.

There’s a long pause and Santana almost falls asleep while waiting when Brittany begins to mumble sleepily, “We’re gonna make some cute babies.”

Santana’s eyes go wide at that.

Here she was, forcing herself to stay quiet in fear that she was going to scare Brittany off or something. She looks back to her and finds she’s still lying there with her eyes closed which makes her wonder if that was the sleep talking or if it was Brittany? She doesn’t know, but she finds comfort in at least being on the same page about something like this. She wants to laugh, but stifles it so she doesn’t wake Brittany. It makes her heart swell and nearly burst free from her chest though, because if Brittany’s thinking about what their family could look like then maybe Santana’s on to something here.

She hadn’t considered proposing anytime soon, but if Brittany keeps this up she doesn’t know how long she’ll actually last. If anything, she can at least be a little prepared. Right?

“One day, Britt-Britt.” Santana says and it’s the last thing she does before she falls into a deep sleep.

Maybe it has something to do with the New Year just around the corner, but in the days leading up to Brittany’s return, Santana does a lot of thinking.

She thinks about the conversation she had with Maribel the night before Brittany left for San Francisco. She thinks about her family, her Abuela and Abuelo, and the difference in the ways they showed their love for her. She thinks about her father and how easy it was for him to vanish from her life. She thinks about the people in her life at this very moment who love her unconditionally and have repeatedly come through for her, whether it has been all of her life or again in only the last year.

She thinks a lot about love and remembers a time long, long ago when she didn’t think she was worthy of it. She was harsh and tore people down with her vicious words without a second thought so she didn’t think anyone would ever break through that and attempt to understand the real Santana Lopez.

Then Brittany came into her life and everything started to change.

She was still harsh and tore people down with her vicious words, but with Brittany it was different. Brittany accepted all of the parts that Santana was made of and she never shied away, she only ever wanted Santana to be herself and embrace all of her awesome.

It makes her think about something her Abuelo once said to her a long time ago. She was only in middle school when she first experienced heartbreak, her boyfriend of three weeks had broken up with her for someone more popular and Santana was wrecked. Maybe not so much because a boy broke up with her, but more so because he didn’t want her anymore. She felt replaceable and it sucked.

She had cried with her Abuelo during their weekly piano lesson and he said, “Santana, the easy part of life is finding someone to love. The hard part is finding someone to love you back.” He reminded her of how she still had so much time and that she was better off without that stupid boy. Those words always stuck with her throughout her life.

Little did they both know, Santana would find her person just a couple years later.

She remembered standing in the hall in front of her locker, tears in her eyes, begging Brittany to love her back. She had been so sure this time, she had found her person, but things didn’t come easy for them at first. She thought she had made a mistake again and gave her heart to the wrong one, but then something crazy happened…

“I do love you! Clearly you don’t love you as much as I do or you'd put this shirt on and dance with me!”

Brittany was pissed – probably the most pissed she had ever seen – but it was in that moment that Santana realized something: Brittany just wanted Santana to love herself first. She could see straight through Santana’s bullshit and even after that she wasn’t afraid to call her out on it. Even more importantly, Brittany still loved her anyway.

A lot of their relationship had been full of moments like that, like sudden clarity where all the drama and hurt suddenly made sense because on the other side of that was this…happiness.

She wouldn’t trade it for the world.

It’s New Year’s Eve and Santana’s desperately trying to ghost Quinn.

A couple days ago, Quinn got word of a New Year’s Eve party being hosted at Breadstix and has been trying to convince Santana to go ever since.

“Come on, it’ll be fun! Mercedes is going and she’ll perform at midnight, you have to go.” Quinn had urged but Santana wasn’t budging. She didn’t feel like celebrating when her person wasn’t going to be there to celebrate with. She didn’t have to say that for Quinn to pick up on it though, “You can’t ring in the New Year alone, San. I know Maribel will be working.”

“What? How do you know that?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just come! There’s a dress code and everything, since when do you turn down any excuse to paint on one of your hooker dresses?”

Santana rolled her eyes, “I have no one to impress so there’s no point.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but, you can always take pictures and send them to Brittany.”

“Please, as if a picture could capture all this hotness.”

“Well it’s all you can eat breadsticks – “

“It’s always all you can eat breadsticks if you talk to the right person.”

“Ugh, why are you like this? Can’t you just go with me? I don’t want to third-wheel with Mercedes and Sam…”

“You really aren’t going to drop this, are you?”

“No. So you’ll go?”

Santana stewed on the question for awhile until she ultimately gave up and agreed to go. It would be a little depressing being stuck home alone on New Year’s Eve and she knew Brittany wouldn’t want her to miss out on a chance to party with her friends.

And it’s that kind of thinking that has landed her in the current situation she’s in, wedged between Quinn and Sam in a booth in Breadstix while they watch Mercedes sing. All in all, it’s not the worst situation she’s ever been in – she’s totally being dramatic – but it does feel off to hang out with everyone without Brittany there.

“She’s so good,” Sam compliments as Mercedes belts out a high note. Santana looks to him from the corner of her eye and he’s completely fixated on the woman on stage. There’s this dopey smile on his face and love hearts beaming from his eyes and for the first time maybe ever, she knows exactly how Sam feels. To be so enamored by someone, so filled with love for them, that you can’t help but to stare in awe.

“Amazing,” Quinn adds breathlessly as the final note rings out.

The entire place stands as they applaud Mercedes. She bows graciously and waves, even blows a kiss to Sam before she makes her way down the steps and rejoins her friends at their booth. A jazzy cover band takes over while dinner is served.

“You killed it up there,” Santana says as the salads come out.

“Thank you,” Mercedes replies with a flip of her hair, “I’m glad you made it out tonight, would’ve missed the surprise.”

“Surprise?” Santana wonders before she catches her usual waitress’s eye. She sends her a look and soon an additional basket of breadsticks appear on the table. She slaps away Sam’s hand as he goes for a stick and the girls all laugh.

“You’ll see later,” Quinn says, “I’ve been practicing my runs so I can keep up with this one.”

“You’re going up there?” Santana asks then glares at Mercedes, “And you didn’t ask me?”

“It was a last minute thing,” Mercedes explains, “And I was already talking to Quinn at the time.”

“I’m deeply offended that I wasn’t your first choice,” Santana quips in between bites of her breadstick, “Could’ve brought back River Deep, Mountain High.”

“Girl, you know this place couldn’t handle all that..” Mercedes laughs.

Dinner goes on without a hitch. It actually is kind of nice chatting with her old friends and she’s glad she made it out of the house for this. She couldn’t imagine spending the night at home getting wine drunk alone while watching the ball drop, if she even stayed up that late to catch it. She has an alarm set for midnight in Brittany’s time zone just incase she did end up falling asleep early though.

“When’s Britt back again?” Mercedes asks as the last course came around, “I hope I can catch her before I go back to L.A.”

“Two more days,” Santana replies and just uttering the words aloud make her heart race, “This has been the longest two weeks of my life.”

“I’m sure,” Mercedes chuckles.

“When are you heading back?” Santana asks.

“Thursday,” Mercedes replies, “So I might be able to see her before I go. We’ll see.”

Santana nods and looks to Quinn who has been oddly quiet all of a sudden, “You’re quiet. What are you plotting?”

Quinn cracks a smile, “Plotting? Can’t a girl eat in peace?”

“I guess,” Santana chuckles and they return to their meals while listening to the band.

Sam’s in the middle of telling a story about this guy he was working with at the gym he works at part-time when Santana checked her phone. She hadn’t received a new text for a few hours now, not since she was modeling different outfits she had been considering to wear tonight for Brittany earlier. It was getting closer to midnight now – just thirty minutes away – but Santana was getting anxious. She kind of missed Brittany and just wanted to hear her voice.

“I’m gonna go call Britt,” She whispers to Quinn.

Quinn nods and slides so that she could let Santana out of the booth.

Santana made her way to the bathroom, opting that it was warmer than outside and quieter than the lobby, and made the call.

At least, she tried to but the call went unanswered. Santana checked the time again and converted it to what it would be for Brittany and it started to make sense. This was usually game night time and the Pierces were probably deep in a very competitive game of Monopoly. Brittany was always pretty serious when it came to that particular game so Santana didn’t think too much of it and instead sent her a selfie and a text.

Santana L. – Thinking about you xo

Santana rejoins the gang just as Mercedes is getting up to perform again. She looks to Quinn who moves to sit back down and asks, “You’re not going up too?”

“Not my time yet,” Quinn shrugs and scoots in so that she’s the one sitting in Mercedes spot next to Sam now.

Santana slides in too and goes for her wine glass as Mercedes greets the audience again. She’s such a natural up there and Santana is actually really proud of how successful she has become and still manages to stay true to herself.

She thinks about her future career and what she wants but it’s all so spotty. She loves to sing, but she doesn’t know if she’d ever do it professionally. She has this business degree yet she’s not putting it to use and before she randomly took over a co-coaching position, she was a singing waitress.

She’s young but seeing Mercedes up there really gets her thinking about getting serious when it comes to her future. Afterall, it’s not only affecting her, it’ll affect Brittany too. She wants to make something of herself, maybe make a difference in people’s lives, but she doesn’t know where to start.

Those thoughts are cut short when suddenly Mercedes is speaking to the audience again, more specifically to her. Santana was kind of zoned out so she only catches Mercedes saying, “Let’s end the year with this little throwback since I’m surrounded by such talented friends.”

Before Santana knows it a familiar tune begins to play, the God Squad’s version of Cherish/Cherish. Santana starts to laugh as Quinn and Sam pull out their hidden mics and sing to Santana as they accompany Mercedes on the number. They slowly emerge from the booth and join Mercedes on stage, leaving Santana behind in nothing but smiles.

She claps her hands and dances along to the beat from where she sits while memories of the first time they sung the song came to her.

She remembers it from her high school days and how Brittany lit up when their friends began to serenade them. Brittany had been so surprised that Santana would gift her something like that, something so public which she was still struggling with at the time. When it came to Brittany though, Santana endured a lot to make sure Brittany knew she was loved.

Santana felt so carefree that night, she barely even noticed any of the talks or looks. She doubted Sugar would’ve allowed anyone in if that were the case, but hearing the song being performed now is a little bittersweet without Brittany here to experience it.

Santana goes to grab her phone in hopes that Brittany will answer this time just so she can hear this awesome performance. She’s about to press call when someone stops before their table.

A familiar voice asks, “Is this seat taken?”

Santana snaps up to find Brittany – her Brittany – standing there before her with her long blonde hair cascading off her shoulders, blue eyes twinkling, and the smuggest grin on her face.

“Oh my God, Brittany!” Santana just about squeals as she scrambles out of the booth and launches herself into Brittany’s arms, “You’re home early!”

Brittany’s angelic giggles fill her ears as she wraps Santana up in a tight hug, “Missed you too much so I caught an early flight home. Came straight here from the airport.”

“What?”

Brittany shrugs casually, “I figured we’ve had such an awesome year, I didn’t want to spend the last moments of it apart.”

Santana stares back almost speechless and instead leans in for a much-needed kiss. It’s like her body has been on pause ever since the last one they shared at the airport and when their lips touch it’s like she’s finally herself again.

“You like my surprise?” Brittany asks when they pull apart and glances to the side.

Santana’s jaw drops as she follows Brittany’s eyes to where she looks. Santana sees her wave to their friends on stage. Mercedes and Sam wave back while Quinn sends them a wink.

“You did this?” Santana’s wide eyed, “I…how did you – “

Brittany leans down and cuts her off with another kiss before saying, “I’ll tell you later. Come dance with me.”

Santana doesn’t even respond, just gets whisked away to the makeshift dancefloor. It’s all so reminiscent but new at the same time to be dancing with Brittany in almost the exact same spot to the exact same song. Santana thinks she might just be the luckiest girl in the whole world, to be loved by Brittany and their friends, it’s so much.

And the feeling only intensifies when Brittany whispers out an, “I love you.”

It makes the question begging to be asked so much harder for Santana to conceal, especially when Brittany smiles down at her the way that she does while they sway to the music.

“I love you too,” Santana says but it’s filled with so much more, so much promise.

Maybe Brittany doesn’t pick up on it, Santana hopes she doesn’t, but that I love you means more this time. It’s a vow that she’s never going to stop loving her and one day she’ll have a ring to prove that.

For now though, she’s content with dancing the night away with Brittany but only until the clock strikes twelve. She’ll ring in the new year with her girl, surrounded by their friends, but after that she’s taking Brittany home to spend all night making good on a different promise.

A promise that doesn’t involve quite so many people and a lot less clothes.

The heated look Santana earns when Brittany catches her eye tells her that she and Brittany are definitely on the same page. It’s barely 12:03am when the two are hurriedly telling their friends goodbye and rushing to the car with their hands already starting to wander.

#Two Ghosts #brittana #brittana fanfiction #fanfics

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monggu-eomma · 4 years

Text

Give and Take

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Reply 2009 AU, high school AU, fluff, and comfort

Word Count: 2.2k

Prompt: self-insert your first teen phase

Summary: Rewind to 2009. It’s a year that you’ll never forget. Memories of Kanye interrupting Taylor’s acceptance speech, Twilight being made into a movie, the release of the Single Ladies music video, making your very own Facebook account, and texting your best friend on the newest Samsung slide phone would forever be ingrained in your mind. It was a busy year and with the help of your best friend, you were going to snag the hottest concert tickets that any teen girl or guy could dream of having.

Author’s Note: This scenario is for the BGW Bingo Bash and is based off of the “self-insert your first teen phase.” The teen phase that I have chosen to write about was my very first boy band, the Jonas Brothers. Nothing that happened in this scenario actually happened to me. Like all but one of my stories, it’s just wishful thinking. © Give and Take is copyright monggu-eomma. Do not re-post, modify, and/or translate this piece of writing without my permission.

Life seemed to take more than it gave back. It all began a few years ago. At eleven years old, you were starting to make lifelong friendships and settle into your life, your parents took away all of that progress by moving to a new place. It was supposed to be a fresh start, especially for your parents and their crumbling relationship and they had hoped that being closer to family would somehow solve all of their problems, but it didn’t stop the contention found in your home. The phrase “the grass is not greener on the other side” rang true for your family’s big move. The constant fighting didn’t disappear after your family moved and with being forced to make new friends and adjust to a new place, you felt like life was taking the biggest dump on you possible.

With all of that being said, there was one thing as a result of your family moving that wasn’t terrible and that was your best friend, Kim Taehyung. You had first met him when his family had offered to help your family move into your new home. When you first looked around the neighborhood, it seemed like all of the kids in the neighborhood knew each other very well and it made you feel like an outsider. All of that quickly changed when Taehyung had approached you and asked if you wanted to play with him. Despite being shy, you nodded your head and from there you grew to be the best of friends.

Taehyung had always been there for you. He was there cheering you on during your horseback riding competitions and he was there to console you when your parents told you that they didn’t have enough money to continue your horseback riding lessons. It was a low blow to have to give up on something that you loved to do and Taehyung was there to comfort by inviting you to hang out at his family’s farm and take care of their horses with him. He was there to encourage you to play the cello, which you had always wanted to play, even though it meant that you couldn’t be in Band class with him. Most recently, he was there through the tears and the deafening moments of silence when your mom walked out, leading to your parents’ divorce. He knew that he couldn’t fix your broken heart, but he did everything in his power to make sure that you remembered that you were not alone. On warm days he would come over and encourage you to go on walks with him to make sure you got fresh air and on cold days, he would open his arms to you and watch whatever movie you wanted to watch, even if it was Twilight.

You and Taehyung did everything together, from taking the bus to school together, to taking as many classes together as possible -- much to the displeasure of your teachers -- to sharing secrets while playing Mario Kart late at night. He would listen to you gush about your favorite male celebrities and he even came with you at the midnight release of Breaking Dawn. Taehyung was without a doubt the best part of your life.

“Nick is so handsome,” you sighed as you stood by your locker, admiring your newly acquired Jonas Brothers album. Taehyung stood next to you, looking down at the album and tried to remember which one was Nick. Was he the one with straight hair?

“I thought Joe was your favorite,” Taehyung said. He didn’t particularly care for the Jonas Brothers, but he didn’t dislike them either.

“Joe is my favorite, but I can still think that Nick is handsome,” you explained. “Oh! Oh! And Kevin,” you added, because in this house you loved and supported every Jonas Brother.

Taehyung nodded, not really sure what to say to that. He supposed it made sense, but he also was under the impression that you were primarily into the Jonas Brothers for their music. You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket and you saw that a friend had texted you, asking if you were going to ride the bus back home.

“We need to go! The bus is going to leave soon!” You exclaimed as you slid open your phone to reveal a full keyboard. You needed to tell your friend to ask the bus driver to wait for you and Taehyung to come. Before you could start the text, Taehyung’s eyes widened and he took your wrist so that you could run along with him.

The Fates seemed to be favoring you today, which got you excited, since the bus was still there by the time you and Taehyung had arrived, with chests heaving and hearts pounding. You had failed to notice that Taehyung was still holding on to your hand as you entered the bus, but oddly enough, it wasn’t weird. It felt kind of nice. You wouldn’t have minded him holding your hand more often. It wasn’t until you both sat down next to each other that Taehyung had noticed that he was still holding your hand. He looked down at your intertwined hands and immediately released your hand, a blush coloring his neck and cheeks.

“Sorry,” he said. Normally you weren’t a big of prolonged physical contact, but you knew that if it weren’t for Taehyung holding your hand as he ran, there was no way that you would have made it on time to the bus.

You bumped your shoulder against his, trying to diffuse the tension. “It’s okay. If it weren’t for you dragging me, I would have missed the bus.” You didn’t want to make it awkward by saying that you enjoyed him holding your hand. You would keep that information to yourself.

Although there was still some awkwardness hanging in the air, the rest of the bus ride home was spent listening to music with Taehyung. You each shared an earbud as you both listened to music on your iPod. It was amazing that that thing could hold five hundred songs. You were pretty sure that you’d never be able to use up all of the space for music.

A few songs later, and you found yourself walking back home with Taehyung. The walk was only six minutes, you had counted, and you were still listening to music together. It was a little hard to share earbuds with Taehyung since he was starting to grow taller, which caused the earbud in your right ear to tug a few times. He asked a few times if you were okay since he saw the minor discomfort, but you didn’t mind it all.

“Are you still going to come by later?” You asked when you stood in front of your house.

“Of course! I just need to do some chores and then I’ll be right over,” Taehyung replied, with a smile.

You clapped your hands and jumped up and down. “Awesome!” Taehyung laughed and started to make his way home. “And don’t forget to bring your phone!”

He turned around and tilted his head to the side. “My phone?”

“Yeah! We’re gonna need it tonight,” you exclaimed. Taehyung was skeptical towards your request but he shrugged his shoulders in compliance. You never needed to try hard to convince him to do something. Your wish was your command and he would gladly follow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you really going to do this?” Taehyung asked as he watched you scatter five different phones, four cell phones and your home phone, on your bedroom floor.

“Yes! I am,” you said as you looked up to see his eyes judging you from where he sat on your bed. You opted to sit on your bedroom floor to allow for more flexibility, although mobility wasn’t necessary for this challenge, you just liked knowing that you could move around.

“Can’t you just use your laptop to get tickets?” Taehyung suggested. He looked toward your clunky Dell laptop that was sitting on your desk. That laptop was so ancient that it made a whirring noise whenever you used it, but despite its age the laptop worked perfectly fine even if it had to be plugged into a socket to function.

“No! I can’t,” you replied as you folded your arms across your body. “I don’t have money and there’s no way that Dad will buy tickets for me. The only way that I can see them is to win tickets through this radio show,” you explained in exasperation. It felt like this was the millionth time that you were explaining yourself to Taehyung, but at the same time, you knew that you shouldn’t be too harsh on him. He could have made fun of you for your obsession over the Jonas Brothers, but he didn’t. On top of that, he was even letting you use his cellphone to call in to the radio show. “Can you pass me my radio, please?”

Taehyung leaned over to your nightstand and grabbed your radio.

“Thank you!” You beamed as he handed over the radio to you. Taehyung smiled as he watched you dial the radio to the right station. He couldn’t remember the exact moment that he started crushing on you. Maybe it was when you shared your favorite ice cream with him, even though you hate sharing your favorite foods. Maybe it was when you spent all of the free day that they had in Band class laughing at him messing around on the saxophone. Maybe it was when your soft hand tightly held on to his hand when your school took your grade to the ice skating rink. Regardless of when he started to share his heart with you, Taehyung was resolved to stay by your side, even as you daydreamed of marrying your favorite Jonas Brother.

Taehyung was snapped out of his thoughts when he felt a thud on your bed. You had tossed two of the five phones onto your bed. He gazed at you as the last rays from the Sun for the day streamed into your bedroom, illuminating your figure. He was crushing on you, hard.

“When the radio host opens up the line, dial the radio station’s phone number,” you explained. Taehyung nodded his head, despite not really understanding what was so great about the Jonas Brothers, but at this point he was sure he would do anything for you. If you asked him to jump, he would say, “How high?”

“You ready, Tae?”

“Ready,” he said as he listened carefully to the radio host. Despite the fact that Taehyung was watching your nervous and excited state, he still managed to play his part and he continued to play his unspoken part ten minutes later when he held you in his arms on your bed as you cried.

“We tried so hard,” you said in between tears as your fingers clutched Taehyung’s shirt as if your life depended on it. He didn’t think that it was accurate to say we since he had just followed along with you not giving anything but you much thought, but he wasn’t going to argue with you on that.

You felt devastated. You knew that there was a chance that you wouldn’t get the tickets, but before the radio show, you did your best to not entertain those kinds of negative thoughts. It was all or nothing. From an outside perspective it seemed silly to cry over tickets, but you really wanted to see the Jonas Brothers and this was your one chance to do so.

As the tears continued to fall, Taehyung carefully ran his fingers through your hair. He knew that you weren’t a touchy-feely person, so this prolonged physical contact was new territory for the both of you, but you didn’t complain about the comfort he gave. The only thing he could do was to comfort you to the best of his capacity. Occasionally, he’d rock your bodies back and forth, which would cause you to break out in laughter, even if you still felt heartbroken at the loss of not getting the concert tickets. Eventually, the tears stopped flowing and you looked up to see Taehyung looking down at you.

“Thanks for helping me, Tae,” you said. “I know you don’t like or really care about the Jonas Brothers, but you still helped me.”

“I’m always here. Even if that means helping you get tickets to see the Brothers Jonas,” Taehyung said, purposefully getting the band name wrong. You playfully punched him in the arm and rolled your eyes.

“It’s the Jonas Brothers, Tae. Not the Brothers Jonas,” you corrected.

Taehyung laughed at your correction. You felt the vibrations of his chest, since he was still holding on you in his arms. He laid against the headboard of your bed, taking you down with him.

“You’re such a dork, Taehyung.”

“But I’m better than the Jonas Brothers, right?” You felt Taehyung bury his face in your hair and you smiled.

“You aren’t just better. You’re the best.”

Life took more than it gave back, but none of that mattered because when life gave you Kim Taehyung, you didn’t need anything else.

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crystalectomy · 3 years

Text

I call this piece “leaving the groupchat”

I'm starting off somewhat small - I removed myself from the groupchat. I haven't told anyone yet (and the group settings mean there will be no notification that I’ve done it, people will have to find out on their own).

I don't know yet the FULL extent of the backing-slowly-into-the-hedges I want to do with these people. I know, broadly speaking, that if I get invited to things from this group in the future there will be a few things I straight up say no to:

most get togethers at [A]’s house

any camping trips

most parties in general, esp hosted by [A], [B], [C] , or [D]

Things I might say yes to:

a concert w [B]

a boardgame night (occasional)

a park hang, bar hop, or outdoor festival (anything it's easy to bounce from)

Things I will be pleased to continue:

some kinda relationship with [C]

maybe a reconnection with [E] some day

My brother’s advice was to leave the group chat and only explain myself to anyone who asks about it. He said leaving it would be good for gaining closure (as opposed to just turning off notifications, which I've tried many times already). From what I've told him it seems I have every reason to do so -- he did not try even for a second to talk me out of it. He said he had a similar situation where he left/was cut out of a friend group a year ago and he has had absolutely no regrets at all.

He also said he thinks our Dad sticks too long with people / doesn't recognize when they've become harmful to be around, so if the goal is to not be like Dad (which, yes), then recognizing when to move on from people is one way to get there.

I'm doing everyone a favor here (probably too aggro a thing to say)

I've been reading about people who've broken up with friends or left friend groups and a familiar refrain keeps coming up -- friendships should be with people who you trust, who uplift you, who do not leave you feeling stressed and drained. I cannot say that about this group, as a whole, anymore. At all.

For a long time -- years now -- I've flirted with the idea of leaving the groupchat. It hasn't been a fun groupchat. A lot of it is people posting links and videos that I'm not interested in, giving life update announcements that don't need to be given in a group setting, or posting plan-making logistics, which always end up being a little awkward when some people can participate in them and others can't (which is always the case, b/c of awkward breakups in the couples of the group, east bay vs sf commute times, and now differing covid sensibilities and vaxxed/unvaxxed status).

All of that is innocuous enough, but if it's clutter, it's clutter. And there's no reason not to remove it.

So what made the group good if not the groupchat? The hangs. The drugs, the alcohol, the games. The concerts, the movies, the camping trips. Since we've had a forced year without those things, I've gotten a better look at what the core of this group feels like to be in without all that -- and it sucks.

So why not just ride it out until we can hangout in person again (which will be v soon!)? I guess I'm just feeling like a spring cleaning attitude about it. Like, maybe I can spend my precious time in the afterlife hanging out with people who I can feel close with emotionally as well as physically? Maybe now that I'm in a very different phase of my life than I was when I met them (turning-30-realness) I should cultivate relationships that fulfill me where I'm at now -- people I can share exciting work news, poems, and pictures of my cat with, yes, but also people I can unravel the secrets of the universe and the pros and cons of major life choices with.

I've spent a lot of the quarantine either in solitude or staying connected to / reconnecting with friends who make me feel good. Who listen to my advice, who give me advice and encouragement in turn, who share similar interests with me, who do not call me "unique " "weird" "soooo alternative" over and over again (either in admiration or jest). Who have understood and interpreted and lived out the COVID thing in similar ways as me.

And look -- I don't mean people who have had the same privileges necessarily! Some of the people I've gotten closer to were just as social as the folks in this group +/or worked jobs where they had to be on the frontlines and couldn't barricade themselves quite as much as me and my husband did. But they respected our decision to take as strict a stance on this whole thing as humanly possible, did not call us "sensitive" or "conservative" at any point along the way, and when they asked us to hangout, did so in ways that felt respectful of and empathetic towards our boundaries. It’s not that this group made different choices than I would have, it’s that they, by contrast to my other friends, treated me with judgment, derision, and disrespect for my decisions. I promise I’ve not done the same.

I'm purging a lot of things from my life right now. Leaving my toxic-ish job at the end of April. Trying to lose the last 5 lbs. Getting rid of as much clutter in the house as possible.

As I start to prepare and dream for a life outside of quarantine, I think about who are some of the first people I want to grab a drink with, go for a walk with, celebrate an occasion with. And for the most part, it's not these people.

Y'all are funny, interesting, intelligent, engaging, and a good time. But I don't feel like I belong here. And I often leave hangouts with the group feeling stressed or upset.

Moreso, in my life I feel I've gotten much harder. Cynical, crabby, pessimistic, aggressive, barbed, judgmental. Like, really had those parts of me take over. And I'm almost certain this group being my main group was a contributing factor. It's behavior that's, if not required, then encouraged to be a member here.

I thought about writing a message in the groupchat to explain myself instead of ghosting but a few things occurred to me:

9 times out of 10 when I try to be earnest or express any feelings that aren't straight up enthusiasm for something with this group, I feel ignored at best or patronized and shut down at worst.

given the pervading sense of devil-may-care cavalierness in this group, i figured most of you wouldn't notice/care anyway

I thought of folks like [X], [Y], and [Z] who have been in/out of this groupchat for years, all of whom have since faded away, and none of whom felt the need to say anything. Since there's a precedent, I figured I'd follow it

I'm extremely self conscious about this decision -- I'm worried it comes off as self-absorbed, self-righteous, selfish, etc. and I don't think I know a way to ensure it doesn't come off that way when trying to address it head on.

I'm kind of a coward about this kind of thing (awkward social interactions) anyway. So this is a kind of cowardly way to do it. It fits.

I've been thinking about doing this for so long that nothing anyone can say will convince me otherwise, so why invite a dialogue?

If anyone asks (which my husband assures me they won't):

“Oh, I left the group chat a little while ago, so if you're trying to reach me, specifically, text/phone call is the best way to do so. Email works too. No shade to you or anyone in particular, I just found the energy of the group as a whole to be kind of toxic, and have so for some time now (even pre pandemic).”

Then, maybe:

“I thought about saying something but I honestly couldn't think of what to say that wouldn't come off as arrogant or dramatic or weird. Maybe it's weirder to ghost... but I never seem to accurately gauge how people in this group will react to things I do and say, and I didn’t want to be misinterpreted and cause more stress. There's no good or codified way to leave a friend group, so I just did the easiest, path of least resistance way I could think of.”

And if there’s time:

“And that's the other thing, I didn't want to like, break up with any of you as friends. I'm not going to say no to every game night invitation or avoid people altogether IRL or anything. And I'm hoping and planning to have 1x1 or 2x2 hangs with some of y’all in the future. So I didn't want to invite any truly nasty energy between me and any of the individuals in the group. I'm just excusing myself from the overall 'zeitgeist' of the groupchat, and okay with probably getting invited to fewer outings as a result.”

Or at least:

“I didn’t mean to offend, I just did what I thought was best for me in a way that I hoped would cause the least amount of harm to everyone involved. And I did think long and hard about it, so at least I hope no one can say it was a completely thoughtless decision.”

I'm taking this impending re-entry into society thing as an opportunity to prioritize the relationships that have felt enriching, healthy, fruitful during it. And I’m excited to chase down hobbies and events at work, post pandemic, with the goal of making new friends who I can be more myself with.

#as usual I've over-thunk it

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bitterxweetencounters · 4 years

Text

~5 months later~

Ok I lied. I’m not going to talk about my Japan trip in this post. Instead I’m going to provide an update on what’s been going on in my life for the past 5 months since my last post. Lol.

Okaaaay. So we ended up having a second wave. Hahah..aha..hah. A very intense and overwhelming one, at that. There was a day I believe when the number of new covid cases reached almost 800? It happened around mid this year. I remember it being a really devastating and disappointing period of everyone’s lives. It would seem like the number of new cases would only get worse everyday. I would be so put off from watching the news or reading about anything related to covid ‘cause it would only make me depressed.

Today is a notable day to write this post ‘cause today’s the first day, since this second wave started, that VIC reached 0 new cases and 0 new deaths. 4 stages of lockdown (plus an extension) later, we're finally here! Everyone up until this day had been feeling it - despair, restlessness, anger, hopelessness - at this lockdown that seemed would never end. But today we got the news that VIC will be re-opening again (1st stage) this Wednesday (it’s a Monday today), then even more on Nov 8. The glimmer of hope we’ve been waiting for, for literally months now.

Now for the non-covid related updates. Lol.

It’s tempting sometimes to overgeneralise 2020 as “the year wasted”. “Nothing happened this year” (besides covid of course). But there have been a few new things I’ve experienced this year which I think would be worth noting. And a few thoughts I’ve been having lately that I really need to deposit somewhere before I forget them.

Ever since I became single early this year, I’ve received some interesting dm’s via Instagram. One of the first ones was from this guy from Canada, who sent me one of my posts via my DM then proceeded to comment “cute haha *monkey covering it’s mouth emoji*”. I got this message while I was showering, at like 3am, so it was pretty unexpected. This was the beginning of a very strange friendship (?) thing. Long story short, and around a month later, I found out him to be a very strange guy. He was cute, seemed like a catch at first. BUT he gave off major player vibes and also, he was basically 4-5 years younger than me, and didn’t live up to the maturity he claimed to have (emotional maturity mainly). He would make it seem like he was after a relationship with me sometime in the future but also kept implying that he wasn’t necessarily after a relationship right now, and just wanted to “go with the flow”. He was always complimenting me, always wanted to FaceTime everyday, and would sweet talk me with things that were nice to hear. But I couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was bad news and wasn’t really serious about any of this (I even kept telling him I was thinking this). I should mention he was asking for a selfie and wanted to FaceTime from the very first conversation we had (after only exchanging a few messages). We didn’t even know each other yet?? Lmao. After a few weeks of talking to him I eventually caught him in a lie, and yeah. That was one of the biggest red flags. I had a weird feeling about him from the get go, but I guess I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt (and also what threw me off a lot is that he told me that he told his Mum about me - but I’ll never know if that was just a lie too). He also told me that he was going to visit here from Canada in August (it’s October now) and kept going on about how he wanted to spend a whole week out of the two weeks he was going to be here, with me, and how I’m so chill and fun to talk to that we would have so much fun spending time together. Lmaooo. He told me he’s dated a lot of older girls (I’m not sure if this is a fetish of his), but every time I asked him how many exes he’s had, it would always be a different number (which is hella sus ‘cause it seemed like he was lying then). He tried to do some weird sexual stuff as well which I never entertained and pretty much shut him down straight away whenever he tried. Not sure if he was just joking, but it was disturbing nonetheless. I won’t go into detail ‘cause this isn’t the place for it. It eventually got to a point where I was decided on the fact that I couldn’t take this guy seriously and didn’t want to waste both our time so I started replying less/later to his messages, basically friend-zoned him by calling him “man” and “dude”, and teased him about other girls saying that he had potential with them. I think he eventually got the hint ‘cause one day he just stopped texting me “good morning” everyday. Lol. But anyway, yeah that was more or less the main stuff about guy #1.

Guy #2 was from London and it started with one of my girl friends messaging me and asking me if I was talking to someone at the moment. I said I wasn’t and she proceeded to tell me that one of her boyfriend’s friends found me really pretty and wanted to follow me on Instagram. She then sent me a few photos of him (screenshots from his IG account), asking if I would be interested (I felt like I was on a dating site for a moment lmao). While flattering, I remember thinking this was so bizarre. To be honest with you though the guy wasn’t my type (looks-wise). My friend said he was “a real sweetheart”. Even though he wasn’t my type, I gave it a chance and told her that I don’t mind him following me. We both agreed that the guy and I had nothing to lose, and if anything we’d just become international friends. Lol. So soon enough the guy follows me on IG and then starts a convo via DM. He introduces himself, seemed like a nice/decent guy. Very articulate, and well versed. He would comment on my stories here and there and try to get a conversation going, try to get to know me better and try to share things about himself. I think I recall him saying he thought I lived in Japan ‘cause I had a lot of posts from Japan. Lmao. It would get to the point though where he would write massive paragraphs, but the energy wasn’t called for, and didn’t feel mutual. I think I found it a bit overwhelming and felt like he wanted to take every opportunity to write an essay about his views on everything. There was a particular time I did an IG story post where I was venting about something, and he replied to it with like two long paragraphs worth of his thoughts, and then said he would be there for me even though we didn’t really know each other that well yet etc. Which was really sweet - yes. But also felt too early, premature. It almost felt like he was trying to forge an emotional connection too early on in a relationship which wasn’t even at the friends stage yet. We’d only been talking for like 2 weeks or so. I couldn’t help it, but I think my neutral and short replies gave off a hint, and he commented less and less on my stories. Till eventually he stopped altogether. Lol. Also I think I may have accidentally called him “man”....on purpose. I feel like a horrible person. There was a point early on though that I looked through his IG profile and tried to find things about him that I liked (I basically tried to convince myself that maybe the guy wasn't so bad). But I think that wasn’t successful. And yeah, it was hard to hide that fact for long I think.

Guy #3 is this random guy that just followed me out of no where and liked a bunch of my photos on IG all at once. He then started commenting on my stories quite a lot. He would leave brief comical comments, and tried to get me to play animal crossing with him. Lol. He tried to start a convo one time but I didn’t reply to it for a few hours, and then found that he deleted it. Lol?? He would then like a few more of my IG pics. He was a bit strange. I wasn’t quite sure if he was trying to show that he was interested, or if he was just bored and wanted more friends. But yeah he doesn’t comment on my stories much anymore. Now that I’ve gotten those out of the way, just thought I’d go on about my recent thoughts. So lately I’ve been feeling really stuck. I have a quarter-life crisis pretty much every day. I feel like I’ve plateaued, and I’m not really growing much right now. I feel like I need new experiences, new company. Most of the ones I have at the moment aren’t serving me well or helping me become a better person, if I’m honest. And I’m not happy. The company I have right now aren’t encouraging me to level up, or helping me expand my thoughts and horizons. I’ve noticed that a lot of the friends I was close to pre-covid have changed a lot, and so have I, so we’re not really offering much to each other. I’ve become so low energy lately that I find myself trying to avoid or escape dealing with people or situations that I feel aren’t worth my energy. Which I want to start doing more of from now on. I want to be more selective of the people I chose to surround myself with. I also want to find my community or a new community which I can be part of and grow from. Not sure how or where I will find that, but it’s something I’m keen on delving into more as time goes by. I want to be more myself, I want to change up my look, my fashion. I want to expand my knowledge, expand my vocabulary, expand the diversity of ways I talk/present myself or respond/reply to situations. I want to feel like I have something to offer - not only to my future partner, but to the friends I make in this lifetime. I feel like I’m too basic and uninteresting. I feel like I’m also too careful, too slow, too afraid to make mistakes. Too afraid to take risks. I want to stop “complaining about things, but doing nothing about them”. I want to be confident in myself, no matter what I feel that I am. If that makes sense. I want to speak more clearly, slower. I want to be able to speak Filipino fluently. I want to find the career that I love and work in it. I want to work with people that I can genuinely be friends with, not just colleagues or “fake friends”. I want to not care about what people will think about me, and just do me (especially on IG). I want to be unapologetically myself. But before that, I want that self to be the kind of self I aspire to be. Can you want to be different, but also want to just be yourself at the same time? Can someone confirm this?

#personal #update #coviddays

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